


12 Days of Christmas

by SlightlyTwistedSilverware, WelshWitch1011



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Christmas fic, F/M, Festive fic, Humour, Romance, Skyeward - Freeform, Team Dynamics, Ward redemption, alt season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyTwistedSilverware/pseuds/SlightlyTwistedSilverware, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelshWitch1011/pseuds/WelshWitch1011
Summary: What do you buy the SHIELD director who has everything?





	1. On the first day of Christmas...

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is, this year's Christmas Skyeward fic. We hope you like it!

**25** **th** **December 2014**

 **'** **On the first day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, a vow to stop his treachery…'**

As far as Christmas days went, it was shaping up to be a good one, or so Coulson thought mid-morning, as he sipped at his coffee on the couch, surrounded by his younger team mates and their piles of opened presents. FitzSimmons were positively buoyant now that the big day was upon them, Skye was managing to keep her spirits up well despite a difficult year, and even May had cracked several smiles that had not been the direct product of maiming someone viciously.

Whilst the majority of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were spending the holiday with family, effectively shutting down the base, Coulson's team found themselves together – almost unanimous in their realisation that they didn't have much in the way of real family left. There was only each other. It was perhaps a sobering but not altogether unpleasant thought, considering they had grown as close over the previous eighteen months as any old regular dysfunctional family could.

Coulson had plans to cook, or at least to attempt to whilst he fended off Fitz, who often insisted on lingering in the kitchen to 'taste test' whatever was being prepared. Simmons had vowed to keep Skye content with a steady supply of wine and an afternoon of board games, and May might actually find herself able to slip off for some uninterrupted meditation time, given the sudden emptiness of the Playground. All in all, things promised to be bearable at least and mildly enjoyable at best, although Phil still couldn't shake the feeling he had woken with that morning; something was missing.

But whilst the S.H.I.E.L.D. director had successfully managed to shrug off this vague sense in favour of enjoying the festivities, Skye was secretly struggling with the very same; except that she knew exactly what or, to be more precise, who had created such a hole.

Releasing a sigh that seemed to rise from the pit of her stomach, she swept her thumb over the screen of her phone. She bit her bottom lip, that familiar sting present at the back of her throat as she skimmed the few photographs of her and Ward that she hadn't deleted; a training session selfie she'd insisted on, a group cook out at the Sling-Shot, and a candid shot of him simply smiling at her. Each brought a surge of anger and sadness over the young woman, who was still reeling from her heartbreak some three months after Ward had escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody.

"Everything alright?" Jemma enquired, noting the expression that had befallen her friend. She looped an arm around the hacker's shoulder, hugging her tightly. "I know just what you need."

"Jem, no… seriously, I'm not a big drinker. I'm still working on that one," Skye gestured down to the almost full glass on the table to support her protest.

Jemma waved a hand dismissively as though the thought hadn't even crossed her mind, although behind Skye's back, Fitz discreetly set down the wine bottle again. He was certain they would need it later.

"No, silly," Jemma chided, her eyes positively shining. From where she sat, on the arm of the easy chair at Skye's side, the biochemist wiggled her unicorn slipper clad feet in a demonstration of her excitement. Obviously, the footwear had been a gift from Fitz, and it had been received with rapturous gratitude.

"Another present!" Jemma trilled, clasping her hands to her chest and actually letting out a little squeal. Skye arched a brow, tilting her head as she watched the scientist. Of course, Jemma had been exactly the same the previous year during their first Christmas together as a team. It was a curious sight to behold to Skye, who had never really been surrounded by anyone who viewed the festive period as anything other than painful. Orphans didn't tend to receive many presents, and it was rather difficult as a child to be carried away by the Christmas spirit when there were no loving parental figures present to stir it up within you. Most of the kids at St. Agnes' had been told the truth about Santa Claus from the moment they were old enough to talk themselves, since that was the way things tended to work when you grew up surrounded by a bunch of damaged teens who didn't think twice about shattering innocent illusions. Skye had never done the same herself, preferring instead when she was older to try to help the nuns make things just a little bit more magical for those younger children who stubbornly insisted in holding onto their beliefs.

"I really don't think a …" Skye began, poised to turn down the offer, since she could only feign excitement so many times in one morning when presented with another pair of novelty socks.

"Pish and nonsense," insisted Jemma, tugging her friend up off the chair and beginning to herd her towards the door. "There's one for you in Coulson's office. It was delivered yesterday through internal mail. I think perhaps you may have a secret admirer! Although I must admit, he has rather… interesting taste in romantic gifts."

"Really?" Skye furrowed her brow, "Coulson hasn't mentioned it. Anyway, it's not a secret admirer, okay? It's probably that guy at the Hub I helped out with a little coding, that's all."

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Skye pursed her lips and headed for the door a little more willingly. "I'm just gonna take a look. I'll be right back."

Jemma nodded, although she had already become caught up in assisting Fitz in selecting a suitably festive movie. Skye managed a smile as she listened to dreamy sighs _of 'oooh, 'Miracle on 34th Street'_ and squeals of _'_ _no, no, It's a Wonderful Life!'_

Pulling her sweater sleeves down over her hands, Skye strolled the hallways of the base, noting how eerily silent the place had been rendered. She'd never figured international spies as the type to take Christmas off, and yet the Playground had been plunged into the kind of quiet that made her uncomfortable.

She wasn't sure why she knocked on the office door before she entered but, after she slowly swung the door open, Skye let out a noise of surprise as she spotted the giant fruit basket sitting atop her boss' desk. Whoever the mystery gift giver was, it certainly wasn't somebody who knew her well. Skye's fruit intake was generally nothing more nutritious than an orange Gummy Bear.

"Somebody's worried about your fibre intake, huh?" Coulson quipped, causing Skye to start as he appeared behind her soundlessly. She placed a hand over her chest to still the thundering of her heart and shot Coulson a look that conveyed her displeasure.

"Trying to gift me a heart attack on Christmas day?" demanded Skye, eyes rolling as she noted Coulson was struggling desperately to thwart a smile.

"Wouldn't have to be so concerned by that if you ate a little more of this," he said, tapping the fruit basket before finishing, "and a few less cheese fries and slices of double pepperoni pizza."

Skye winced, appearing to mull over his suggestion. Digging her hands in her pockets, she cocked her head as she replied, "Yeah, but cheese fries and pizza are like the most delicious things ever, and fruit is… you know, an acquired taste. Kind of like me."

Coulson laughed before gesturing to the basket on his desk, "Sorry, with all the excitement this morning… well, I mean mainly from FitzSimmons, but still… this slipped my mind."

Walking behind the desk and plopping into the leather chair, Skye plucked the gift card from the side of the basket and tore open the envelope. Something about the handwriting was familiar but she couldn't immediately recall from where.

"Who's it from?" Coulson asked, watching as Skye digested the brief message with an expression that changed so rapidly he struggled to keep up. Over less than a ten second span, her features conveyed a spectrum of emotion from apathy, to shock, to something that resembled sadness, before she appeared to finally settle on anger.

" _'_ _To Skye, I am sorry. Yours always, Ward'_ ," Skye read aloud before crumpling the note up in one hand with a curled lip.

"Are you kidding?" demanded Coulson, lunging forward for the wadded-up paper that Skye had dropped onto his desk, and beginning to scramble to smooth it out again so that it was readable. "This is a joke, right? A little whacky Christmas fun? Did May put you up to this?"

Wordlessly, Skye picked up the trash can at the side of Coulson's desk and swept the too large fruit basket into it with one arm. It barely fit half in to the receptacle and Skye scowled at the injustice with renewed fervour. She was miserable enough as it was; today of all days she did not want to think about Grant Ward and his latest mind game, whatever that might prove to be.

**x-x-x**

**26** **th** **December 2014**

 **'** **On the second day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'**

The sudden sound of buzzing against the wooden nightstand dragged Skye abruptly from a troubled yet deep sleep, and she fumbled for the phone as she came back to consciousness.

The impromptu gift from Ward, the man who was responsible for her current heartbreak, had soured her festive mood even further. His promise to change his ways and make amends was likely to be just another bluff - a play in whatever twisted game he was now orchestrating, and Skye wanted no part in it. Ward had done enough damage, and she hated the tiny voice in her head that allowed her to be even remotely hopeful that the man could somehow change.

Huffing out a sigh, she swiped her thumb across the cell phone and winced against the light the screen emitted. A text message icon flashed up from an unknown number and she blew out a breath before she pressed on it.

The message was brief; only the words _'_ _a gift for Coulson, more to follow'_ along with a set of coordinates that might have looked familiar had Skye been properly awake.

Pushing the covers aside and swinging her feet onto the floor, Skye hurried out of bed, already tapping away at her cell phone in order to put a trace on the number. She highly doubted that Ward would be stupid enough to lay down a tangible trail for her but she would be a lax hacker and agent indeed if she didn't at least try to bust him.

In the darkness, Skye fumbled for the clothes she had discarded the night before just minutes prior to crawling into bed. Coulson's dinner had been delicious, although a somewhat ambitious attempt at festive perfection for a novice chef, and so Skye had found herself retiring after having well and truly eaten her feelings. The name 'Grant Ward' had been on loop in her mind for the rest of the day, aided in no small part by the fact that Fitz had insisted on fishing the fruit basket out the bin in order to devour it. His reasoning straddled the facts that there were children starving somewhere in a distant land, and that Ward had once tried to kill him and so the very least he owed Fitz was a couple of apples and a carved pineapple.

Skye's thunderous mood had certainly put a dampener on the day and Simmons had been especially disappointed when she had refused point blank to take part in charades in favour of listening to 'Last Christmas' on her i-pod on repeat. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, it seemed that Ward was determined not to grant Skye any peace – and apparently that now extended to bedtime too.

A quick glance at her watch told Skye that it was just shy of 2 a.m. as she exited her room, not bothering to stop and lock the door. She had nothing much worth stealing anyway, unless one was to count her hula girl.

It hadn't been hard to retrieve the keys to one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. cars from the electronic safe. What had proven more difficult was getting out of the main gates. Thankfully the two guards on duty happened to be male, and a hasty story about the need to purchase certain 'feminine products' had them both ushering her through before she'd had time to finish her fictional tale of menstrual woe.

"Men are so pathetic," she sighed in disdain, managing to keep one eye on the road as she eased her foot down on the accelerator and programmed the coordinates into her phone's inbuilt satnav. Placing it down on her lap, she cast a cursory glance in the mirror, glad to see she wasn't being followed.

A rising sense of trepidation began to swirl low in her stomach, but she quickly realised it wasn't out of fear of Ward himself but of unease at whatever it was he was up to. No matter what, she knew he would never physically hurt her. He'd promised her that he was going to redeem himself, but just how he planned on going about that was making Skye decidedly nervous.

Thirty minutes and several red lights later, Skye pulled up in front of what appeared to be a private garage, and she found her anxieties replaced only by curiosity.

She kept one hand on the holster secured to the top of her thigh as she approached the closed garage doors, where she could see a piece of paper flapping in the wind. The lock for the door was electronic and Skye gathered before she even snatched up the note that it would be some sort of clue as to the combination code. She almost rolled her eyes when she saw the words _'_ _you sank my battleship'_ scrawled in red marker pen staring up at her from the page.

She didn't even really have to try to summon the memory from the recesses of her mind. She often dreamed about that moment anyway – the two of them, still friends and teammates with the potential for so much more spread out in front of them – passing the time with a game and a few laughs.

Skye tapped in the code quickly, and wondered not for the first time how a small sequence of letters and numbers could seem like a punch to the gut; G7G4. The blinking light on the security pad flickered and then turned green before the door began to slide up. Skye swallowed down the lump in her throat and resolved to shelve her sadness for another time.

As the door lifted, the lights inside the garage flickered on, bringing the contents into view.

"Son of a bitch."

The sight before her left Skye both confused and strangely admiring of Ward's apparently ballsy escapade. There in front of her stood two enormous, armoured cars; brand new – if their gleaming hoods were anything to go by – and just waiting for her with two oversized red bows attached to each windshield.

A tag was attached to the first bow, and Skye struggled for a moment to pluck it free. The now familiar cursive brought an impromptu smile and exasperated laugh to her lips as she lifted the label up to read.

" _'_ _For Coulson, two shiny, fully loaded, Hydra combat vehicles. Software included_.'"

She rolled her eyes at the winking face he had somehow found time to include at the end of the note, and then she slid the card into her pocket for safe-keeping. It was evidence, after all.

As she paused to radio her discovery in to base, her heart fluttered just a little in her chest, before she managed to steady it with a deep breath. Ward was persistent, she'd give him that, but he was a million long and obstacle strewn miles away from forgiveness.

**x-x-x**

**27** **th** **December 2014**

 **'** **On the third day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'**

The next time Skye's phone hummed from its position in her pants pocket, she was curled up on the couch with Fitz, watching a holiday movie that Simmons claimed she was too sick to possibly sit through. The biochemist had come down with a major head cold in the wake of the Christmas festivities, which Skye supposed was what too many late nights, glasses of eggnog and ugly Fair Isle sweaters did to an overly excitable Brit.

Fitz shot her an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the movie and using the remote control to crank the volume up by several bars. He too seemed oddly crotchety following the holiday, although Ward's fruit basket had gone some small way to cheering him up. He had already ploughed halfway through the contents of it and was throwing out jokes about hoping next time that Ward might spring for the luxury muffin basket instead. Skye highly doubted the former Specialist would ever even consider something so unhealthy - penance be damned.

Noting Fitz's somewhat testy huff and how he jabbed at the buttons on the remote, Skye smiled as she held up her phone. "I'll just…"

"Yep. Magic, long as you stop that infernal buzzing!" Fitz agreed, digging his hand into the bowl of popcorn between them and pausing to chuckle at the TV screen before cramming food into his mouth.

Observing the number with surprise, Skye cleared her throat and stole a moment to take a deep breath before she swiped her finger across the connect call icon.

"Well, if it isn't Santa Claus…" Skye said sardonically, hating herself for the smile his responding laughter prompted. Not wanting him to detect her amusement, Skye quickly sucked in her cheeks. "What do you want, Ward? I'm kind of busy right now… got a hot date with Chevy Chase."

"I see your taste in men has changed," he quipped, self-assuredness and narcissism practically dripping from his voice.

"Arguably it's improved," Skye retorted, irritated by the chuckle that echoed from the other end of the line.

"Ouch," Ward replied, his teasing tone still present as he added, "I deserve a lot of things, Skye, but losing the girl to Clark Griswold?"

Inexplicably, Skye felt her anger rise from her chest without warning, and she gripped her cell phone tighter as she slid into the hallway.

"Can we cut the fake pleasantry crap, please?" she demanded, her voice lowered to a hiss that conveyed her annoyance well enough, "this little self-imposed mission of yours is bullshit and we both know it. This team will never forgive you for what you did, and you're more deluded than I ever imagined if you think you can buy us like… like a divorced dad on visitation."

Ward sighed and, as much as it pained Skye to admit it, he sounded genuinely melancholy.

"I'm not trying to buy you, Skye… any of you. I just want to earn your trust back. I want to prove myself and I'll do whatever it takes to do that, especially to you. For what it's worth? I'm sorry. If I could change the past I would, but this is all I can do now. Just try to make amends."

Skye rolled her eyes at the sentiment, trying to disregard the way her chest seized painfully. It came along with a barrage of other complicated feelings she'd been trying to subdue and shut away for the last few months.

Ignoring Ward's apparently heartfelt plea, she snapped, "So what is it this time, Ward? You want me to go on a midnight treasure hunt again? Cos there's only so many times the guards on the gate are gonna buy my 'women's things' crap before I wind up in a S.H.I.E.L.D. gynaecologist's office."

"I… uh…" he began, laughing in obvious mirth at her total lack of filter. It wouldn't be appropriate or well received to say he missed her, but he did; her easy smiles and wide eyes, her goading, her teasing sense of humour, and a billion other things about Skye that ensured she featured in his dreams most evenings, and controlled more of his waking thoughts than was pertinent given their currently strained relationship.

Skye winced when Ward suddenly began to cough, and she moved the phone slightly away from her ear as she felt her eardrum vibrate uncomfortably.

"Jeez, Grant…" The scolding died on her lips as she detected a pained groan from the other end of the phone and, despite her brain's feelings on the subject, her heart leapt at the possibilities. "Are you okay? Pretending I like, you know, care about your treacherous ass. But seriously… are you okay?"

"Just a couple of cracked ribs, I've had worse," he assured her, his voice oddly gentle.

"Not that I care," she quickly reiterated, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she was comforted by his assurance.

"Of course," he replied, and his tone was all business again as he continued, "I got you guys another gift."

"Is it better than that cheap ass fruit basket?" demanded Skye, half wondering if she might actually get that selection of luxury muffins after all.

"Just go outside, you'll see," Ward directed, falling silent as Skye stalked down the corridor towards the exit, her cell pressed to her ear still. She could hear the sound of Ward breathing on the other end of the line, and she was loathed to admit that it was an almost comforting sound to listen to again.

"What am I looking for?" Skye inquired with real interest as she ducked out of the exit and paused only long enough to slam the heavy metal door closed behind her. It locked automatically but her ID and a quick fingerprint scan would assure her ability to enter again when she wanted to.

She shuddered as the cold December evening air wrapped around her, and she barely managed to resist the urge to stamp her feet against the ground in an effort to warm up. Had she been thinking, she would have stopped to pick up a jacket from her room before indulging Ward.

Realisation suddenly striking her, Skye halted in her tracks, her hand flying up as though Ward could see her.

"Wait, you were on the base?" she demanded incredulously.

She could almost imagine the smug grin plastered across his handsome face. As much as it pained her to acknowledge it, he was still perhaps the most freakishly hot guy she'd ever set eyes on; an excuse she'd been using lately to justify to herself the fact that Ward had once again managed to worm his way not just into her thoughts, but also her dreams.

"Skye… come on, now," he teased, chuckling as he heard her release a snort of disdain.

Skye hunched over against the freezing cold wind, her eyes narrowed as she peered through the light snow flurries. "Alright, what exactly am I looking for? No big, red bows this time?!"

"Turn the corner by the recycling dumpsters," he directed, pausing as he listened to her moving. He also couldn't fail to hear the string of muffled expletives she released against the cold.

"Holy… shit," Skye exclaimed, her eyes widening as she found three uniformed Hydra operatives, all wearing the distinct shoulder badges of the organisations' elite operations unit; essentially, Hydra's best and most lethal Specialists. All three of the men looked as if they'd been on the receiving end of a brutal attack, and she could now guess the reason for Ward's broken ribs.

"Are they…"

"Dead?" Ward guessed, "no. I just gave them a little something to keep them subdued. Didn't want them waking up before you found them."

There was silence on Skye's end of the line, and it stretched on so long and uninterrupted that Ward began to think that the connection had dropped. However, just as he was poised to call Skye's name, a string of profanity left her lips that left him under no illusions as to her feelings on the matter.

"Jesus Christ, Ward," she snarled, her anger actually enough to begin to keep her warm, "this is fucking deranged… this is beyond deranged…"

"I don't see the problem here," Ward countered, obviously perplexed by Skye's ire, "Coulson wants inside intelligence and I don't have access to that anymore. These guys do. Problem solved."

"Problem solved?" Skye repeated, staring at her phone askance, again forgetting that Ward couldn't see her. "You straight up kidnapped three men and dumped them on our doorstep. That's just…"

"Because, historically, Hydra have never kidnapped anyone, right?" Ward retorted, scoffing at Skye's indignant tirade, which really was bemusing to him.

As if to further prove his point, he added, "And you forget how you and I first met? The bag over your head? Handcuffs?"

Skye swallowed thickly, determined not to let the fresh pang of heartbreak escalate into yet another emotional breakdown.

"I'll never forget that. That's when I thought you were one of the good guys...well, _after_ the whole bag/cuffs thing."

Ward was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was gentler, his tone conveying nothing but his desire to be honest, and perhaps even a touch of rare vulnerability.

"I want to be. I want to be one of the good guys. I want to be everything you thought I was… and that's why I'm doing this, to show you, to show Coulson, that I'm serious about wanting to make up for what I did. Those three men are assassins, Skye. They've killed men, women, even kids – not to mention their fair share of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents too. All three of them are on the 'most wanted' lists of every intelligence organisation in the country and even a couple of international ones. They're not good men." He paused before adding, "And I should know, right?!"

He waited for what seemed like a lifetime, until Skye finally replied. "Alright. I guess I'll let Coulson know he has a… delivery."

She lifted her fingers to her forehead and rubbed her skin wearily. The cold or else the reminder of Ward's betrayals was beginning to stoke the fires of a headache.

"And Ward?"

"Yeah?" he sounded vaguely hopeful yet guarded. No doubt he was expecting another insult, put-down, or smartass quip.

But when Skye did answer, her words took him by surprise.

"Be careful out there, okay? I don't know who you're pissing off to do all of this, but… you can't make amends if you're dead. So just… don't get your sorry ass killed."

"Careful, I might start to think you care," Ward replied, although his mocking tone was gone, replaced by a soft hopefulness. Without another word, Skye stabbed the disconnect button on her cell and focussed her attention back on the three men, who were beginning to groan and show signs of stirring.

She could worry about Grant Ward and his suicide missions later. Right now, she had three trussed up henchmen to drag inside.

**x-x-x**

**28** **th** **December 2014**

 **'** **On the fourth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'**

Skye had gotten precious little sleep after dealing with Ward's 'gift' and the circus that had preceded it, which included being present behind the scenes for Coulson's interrogations. The three Hydra Specialists had, as expected, remained tight lipped, but that could potentially have had something to do with the varying levels of swelling present on each of their faces. Despite their stoicism, Coulson had elected to continue the interviews long into the early hours of the morning, meaning that Skye had barely managed to grab a couple of hours shut eye before her alarm had gone off again. Although she knew Ward was only trying to help, his constant gifts were hardly conducive to a restful Christmas period, and Skye was beginning to think that she may need to book herself a holiday to allow her to recover from the holiday.

Consequently, her bad mood from the previous few days had only grown darker, and breakfast had been an ordeal conducted almost totally in silence. That was, until Jemma had strolled into the dining room with a box clutched to her chest and a hesitant expression on her face.

Offering Skye a smile, Jemma hugged the box closer and sat down in front of her friend. Jemma cleared her throat, the bags under Skye's eyes not escaping her notice.

"Well, Ward is… persistent, that's for certain," Simmons began, raising an eyebrow as she placed the large, shiny, golden box down on the table and slid it towards Skye. "This arrived just now. For you."

Propping her head on her hand, cheek pressed to her palm, Skye groaned. She reached out with her free hand and placed it on top of the box as if too tired to even contemplate opening it.

Casting her eyes down, away from her friend, Skye asked with some hesitance, "Do you think this is for real? Ward saying he wants to make amends and… and not be a treacherous douchebag anymore?"

Jemma sighed and folded her arms, signalling that even thinking about Ward was still wholly unpalatable to her. "Well I suppose even lying, duplicitous, underhanded, no good, morally corrupt, murderous, scheming arseholes are occasionally capable of feeling regret."

Sitting up straight and twisting her lips into a frown, Skye toyed with the box and began to peal the gold leaf sticker from the sealed edge. "So, you believe him?"

Jemma shrugged, her lips forming a perfect pout. She avoided looking at Skye as best she could, hoping to resist providing an answer to the question, which made her uncomfortable to say the least. Feeling the weight of Skye's stare upon her still, Jemma huffed out a reply.

"Yes. I suppose I do. Although I still hate every bone in his no good, lying…" realising she'd already employed those particular terms, Jemma shook her head, desperately searching for more words, "hideous, square jawed, body!"

Skye smiled, opening the box as she shot an amused glance at the Brit. "He's a lot of those things, Jem, but hideous? Ward's stupidly hot. I know it, you know it, and he knows it."

Jemma tsked in disdain, "Yes, well treachery can make people so much less attractive, don't you think?!"

Skye nodded her head in agreement, only just managing to bite back a laugh. She tipped the box slightly so that she could peer over the rim inside at the contents, which slid forward at the disturbance.

"Hershey's Turtles!" Skye enthused, her eyes actually lighting up as she fished a handful of the chocolates out of the box and plopped them onto the table. Jemma leaned over to allow herself a better view of the contents, and even her lips quirked into a smile as she pulled out a bag of candy.

"Oooh, Reese's Pieces, my favourite," she cooed, shooting a questioning glance at Skye as though seeking her permission.

"Knock yourself out, Simmons," Skye replied, already tearing the foil off her first victim with relish.

"What else is in there?" Jemma demanded almost hopefully, through a mouthful of chocolate nonetheless.

Mouth bulging, Skye shrugged back at her friend and reached inside the gift box again. Her mood and blood sugar were both so simultaneously low that the chocolate shaped reptiles really had been enough for her in that moment. However, given Ward's track record over the last few days, she highly doubted that he thought he could buy his forgiveness with candy alone, although it was an excellent start to Skye's mind.

"Oh my God, there are Twizzlers in here!" Skye placed her hand over her mouth, hurriedly chewing to avoid spitting chocolate over her friend. "Tootsie Rolls? Gross. I thought you were looking for forgiveness, Grant."

Letting the use of his Christian name slide for the moment, Jemma cleared her throat and replied slightly unwillingly, "They're Fitz's favourite."

Skye's lips pressed into a tight line, "Right. I guess he was paying attention back then, huh?!"

Jemma reached into the box to retrieve the candies, which she placed down on the table before her, absently fiddling with the wrapper of one. She watched Skye rip open the bag and jam the end of a Twizzler into her mouth with relish.

"Oh my God, so, so good," she enthused, freezing as she spied something in the box she hadn't been anticipating.

Noting her friend's surprise, Jemma sat up straighter. "Oh bloody hell, what is it? Is it a bomb? Oh no! A severed finger? An ear?"

"Worse," Skye deadpanned, realising the nature of the item meant it was more than likely that she would have hours of work ahead of her. "It's a USB stick."

Holding up the offending token, Skye used her other hand to fish out the note that lay underneath it. Squirming in her seat, Jemma practically crawled across the table in order to look into the box.

"What do you think is on it?"

Skye held it up before her eyes and sighed, her fingers curling around the stick with more force than was necessary. All she wanted to do was sleep – and perhaps eat her way through half the candy in the box – but Ward had thrown a proverbial spanner in the works already.

"I really hope it's porn or his music downloads files, but something tells me… like the note I'm holding in my other hand … that this is a list of Hydra mainframe log-ins and passwords."

Jemma's mouth fell open and she almost choked on her own saliva as she found herself turning over Skye's words in her mind.

"Why would he…?" she spluttered, screwing her eyes closed and shaking her head, "I mean, what would he…"

"Forgiveness, remember?" Skye said with a tired sigh that seemed to almost rattle her bones. She really needed a nap. Curse Grant Ward.

"Well, I suppose Coulson will be pleased," Jemma managed after gathering her wits, "if he's quite recovered from his excitement of Hydra tanks and half of the America's most wanted list."

Skye glanced sharply at her friend, hearing the edge to her voice easily.

"Coulson isn't going to forgive Ward just because he throws a couple of bones our way, Jem," she declared with a note of confidence ringing in her voice. However, Jemma peered back at her, one eyebrow raised and one hand poised on her hip.

"It's not Coulson I'm concerned about," she explained, and she immediately looked away from Skye in favour of gathering up the candy she intended to take to Fitz.

Skye cleared her throat, unable to formulate a suitable retort due in no small part to the fact Jemma was more than likely right. Though Ward had a long way to go to earn back her trust, the fact she was willing to allow him to at least try spoke volumes. But now wasn't perhaps the best time to admit that to Jemma, whose hatred of the man in question had settled somewhere at 'quiet loathing' - though some may argue that was an improvement from 'actively murderous'.

Snatching up another Twizzler, Skye bit off the end whilst she contemplated the day ahead and the sleep deprivation it invariably held.

Jarring her from her thoughts, Skye's phone vibrated on the table and she swiped it up quickly to read the message. She already knew who it was from.

Jemma watched with a knowing expression on her face, which was quickly replaced by one of disdain and something akin to exasperation. Deciding not to push the hacker further on the subject, she picked up Fitz's candies and made a swift exit.


	2. On the Fifth Day of Christmas...

**29th December 2014**

**‘On the fifth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

By the time the following evening rolled around without so much as a bleep from her cell phone, Skye was beginning to think that Ward was finally done with his scheme. It did seem admittedly odd that he would allow his efforts to simply fizzle out on a box full of candy, but after clocking up very little sleep over the past few days she could hardly bring herself to care.

She was just filling the bath tub of her ensuite on when the perfect peace of her day was shattered, this time by an email alert on her phone. Groaning, Skye closed her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath, which mingled with the building steam. She had been anticipating a long bubble bath for the most part of the day, and she was half tempted to ignore her phone altogether. However, a second bleep resounded, somehow seeming even more insistent than the first, and Skye had to admit that her curiosity was piqued just slightly.

Pausing to first turn off the faucet and gather her bathrobe back around her shoulders, Skye then exited the room, making straight for the bedside table where her phone sat charging.

Hastily opening the email and the document attached, Skye sat down on the edge of her bed and hugged the edges of the robe against her skin. She flicked her finger quickly over the document contained within the email and then flopped back against the bed, letting her phone fall onto the mattress beside her. The fresh bed linens beneath her were all too appealing but it seemed she’d be forgoing them in exchange for a last-minute jaunt to New York.

“You know what, Ward?! Maybe I don’t want to go trawling the docks at 3 a.m. like some cheap hooker. Maybe I want to take a bath and sleep…” closing her eyes with a whine, she pouted, “ _oh, sleep sounds so good right now_.”

Her phone vibrated from the bed beside her hand and she growled in irritation as she picked it up to read his text, which enquired if she’d received his email and the coordinates contained within.

“ _Yes_!” she snapped irritably, “I got it, douchebag.”

Although she simply typed ‘yes’ in response. Almost instantly another message followed from Ward, this time appearing to convey some sort of warning.

_‘Don’t go alone, take Coulson and May.’_

That was how, less than thirty minutes later, Skye found herself buckling into the back of a quin jet whilst May and Coulson prepared to co-pilot it towards their destination. As the hangar doors opened and the aircraft took flight, Skye rested her head back against the wall, hoping to catch just a little shut eye in the time it would take to complete the journey. It seemed, however, that fate was conspiring against her because just as her breathing began to even out, Coulson plopped down in the passenger seat next to her. He was obviously intent on bending her ear about some matter or other involving one Grant Ward.

“I just want to sleep,” Skye whined, eyelids flickering open. She affixed Coulson with an accusatory glare and his responding smile was almost sheepish.

“If we manage to wrap this all up tonight, you can take tomorrow afternoon off and sleep as long as you need,” Coulson stated, holding both hands up to demonstrate his seriousness as he added, “cross my heart.”

“Fine, fine,” grumbled Skye, sitting up straighter in her seat and barely managing to stifle a yawn as she turned to face Coulson full on, “what’s eating you, D.C.?”

“Ward…” he began, stopping suddenly with saucer wide eyes as he realised what he had said. “Oh God no, not like that…”

Shooting him an amused smirk, Skye let the opportunity for mirthful teasing slide. Just this once, of course.

“Look, I know this is crazy, I know it’s totally over the top, and reckless, and a crap ton of other things I know you disapprove of,” she began, “but I believe him, D.C. I believe he wants to redeem himself. As much as I hate myself for saying this, you guys gave me a second chance. You gave May a second chance. I know what he did was shitty, but if we don’t let him at least try to make up for it, what does that make us?”

Coulson puffed out his cheeks.

“I had a speech prepared,” he frowned, glancing down at the floor of the plane. Her words had completely taken him by surprise, and his displeasure was clear. “I wasn’t expecting you of all people to take his side.”

Skye rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not taking his side, Coulson. I’m just saying that he deserves the same chances that you gave us. That’s all. If he blows it again, then…” she shrugged for effect, trailing off rather than committing to completing her threat.

Coulson pursed his lips, letting his head drop back against the somewhat comfortable headrests on the plane’s interior wall. “Skye… do you still have feelings for Ward?”

Skye’s denial was on the tip of her tongue, rising up inside her along with a well of indignance that she had to wonder about the validity of. She swallowed down her impulses quickly and with some difficulty, electing to take a more level-headed approach to answering the accusation instead of simply flying off the handle. Several weeks ago, she more than likely still would have done the latter, and so Skye had to assume that at least some progress had indeed been made by Grant.

“My feelings for Ward are complicated,” she murmured, surprised by the softness of her own voice as she gazed at Coulson, eyes sweeping his face to search for a shred of understanding, “I thought I loved him once, but...you know how that turned out. I should still be furious with him but… the more time passes, the more I just… I feel sorry for him.”

“ _Sorry for him_?” Coulson repeated askance, as though Skye had just admitted to being a fan of waterboarding puppies, “how can you feel sorry for Grant Ward? He murders people like I change my underwear.”

Pursing her lips, Skye shot back, “Maybe because nobody else ever has, D.C. Ward has never known real love… compassion… empathy… kindness… and yet we were all so surprised when we realised he’d been moulded into a monster.”

Skye thought back on the details she’d read in Ward’s file – a file Coulson still didn’t know she had hacked, although he’d probably surmise that now.

“He was just a kid, and I know what it feels like to grow up thinking nobody cares about you. I know how easy it would have been for me to do exactly what he did; to follow a parental figure like that. It probably hasn’t escaped your notice but… I guess I look up to you, you know? You’re like my Yoda. It’s just that Ward’s Yoda was a lying psychopath.”

“Makes my Captain America memorabilia collection pale in comparison, right?” he managed a weak smile, giving Skye some hope that she was making a degree of headway.

She yawned behind her hand and regarded her mentor with a pleading expression behind her weary eyes. “Please, D.C., give him a chance… for me?”

When Coulson only remained mute, Skye sank lower in her seat and resisted the urge to let out a sigh born of frustration. Whilst silence was not an outright refusal to heed her words, neither was it a comforting agreement, and it didn’t seem to bode well when the rest of the flight passed without another word being exchanged by any of the three agents.

They arrived a short distance from the dock some time later, and made their way to Ward’s co-ordinates once they had safely stowed away the jet and also armed themselves in case of surprises. Whilst Skye found herself eager to begin placing a degree of trust in Ward again, she was by no means an idiot, and May was working hard to instil in her the importance of always being prepared. In their line of work the old adage of bringing a knife to a gun fight could quite easily become literal, and Skye had big plans for the new year that did not involve dying, so it was with an actual handgun placed in her thigh holster that she set out to unearth Grant’s latest ‘present’.

What they found certainly did not disappoint. Once Coulson had managed to jimmy open one of the enormous wooden crates with a discarded crowbar, the three agents had fallen into a silence that this time was born of awe alone. Being faced with copious quantities of white powder that highly resembled cocaine would do that to a person. 

The three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents adopted comically similar poses –  even May simply staring at the illegal bounty before them with an open mouth.

“So, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s not powdered sugar, is it?” Skye drawled, turning to look at Coulson, who remained silent. His eyes took in the hundreds of packets stacked top to bottom inside the crates. A couple of bags had burst open during transit, spilling cocaine out onto the floor of the shipping container.

Suddenly coming to his senses, Coulson cleared his throat, “No, that’s… that’s… a whole lot of drugs.”

May turned on her heel and strode over to the next container, wasting no time in opening it and swinging her flashlight around to peer inside. Yet again, she discovered that the crate contained a stack of drug bundles. She had to admire Hydra’s brazen approach to drug running; they hadn’t even tried to hide the contents, no doubt already having either bought off or terrified the relevant authorities into silence.

“I guess now we know how they paid for those shiny new toys,” Coulson mused. He had long suspected Hydra’s involvement in the criminal underworld to fund their ‘business’. “How many crates are there?”

Stepping out of the second crate, May cast the beam of the flashlight across the dock yard, noting the red and grey metal containers that still had to be investigated.

“Twenty? Twenty-five?”

Skye peered with wide eyes around the docks, realising that this time even Coulson himself appeared impressed with their little ‘gift’ from Ward. Deciding to test the waters, she cleared her throat pointedly.

“So… he did good, right? I mean, this stuff can’t hit the streets now and Hydra aren’t making any pocket money.”

Jamming his hands into his pockets, Coulson swept the yard, his blank expression leaving Skye slightly irritated. Out of all of Ward’s ‘redemption gifts’, this was undoubtedly the most significant. Just how he’d gotten this information she didn’t want to know, but she couldn’t help but be impressed that he’d managed to pull it off.

“I guess he did,” Coulson allowed, suddenly diverting his attention to May, who appeared once more at his side. “May, we’re gonna need a couple of teams out here. This could take all night.”

“No afternoon off tomorrow?” Skye asked, her eyes widening and her bottom lip beginning to push out in a pose that highly resembled a pout. Blowing out a breath and then wincing, Coulson shook his head.

“Sorry, Skye,” he lamented, patting her on the shoulder, “no afternoon off tomorrow.”

Skye let out a loud and highly irritated groan, which only succeeded in prompting a smile from May, who wasn’t quite ready yet to begin viewing Ward in the same semi-benevolent light that Skye appeared to be.

“But… he did good, right?” May teased, arching an eyebrow at Skye but not even bothering to conceal her smirk.

Gritting her teeth, Skye managed to grind out, “Shut up, May.”

 

**x-x-x**

**30th December 2014**

**‘On the sixth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

Ignoring the wide-eyed, frightened stares of the five men bound, gagged, and slumped against the wall, Grant Ward tested the weight of the knife in his hand. He held the glinting edge of the metal up towards the light whilst each man stared at it with mounting terror.

Sighing in annoyance as they began desperately struggling to make noise despite the tape covering their mouths, Ward cast them a wholly derogatory glare.

“You know, you boys don’t have to be conscious when I hand you over.”

If truth were to be told, not all of them had been awake when he’d assembled them in the hotel room, and if they continued to grate on his nerves they’d once again find themselves revisiting varying level of consciousness.

Ward regarded them with unbridled loathing – each of the Hydra ‘heads’, a leader within their specific, strategic unit; logistics, operations, finance, recruitment, research - and each of them cold blooded murderers in their own right. They were pieces to the puzzle of the Hydra hierarchy that Ward was keen to disassemble, especially given the recent plots he had uncovered that would surely put one former hacktivist and friend in more danger than she could possibly fathom.

Whilst Skye may have been aware that she was known as an 084 to both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra respectively, Ward was fairly certain that she had yet to gain the knowledge regarding her past that several of the men before him were privy to; more specifically, her Inhuman DNA, how to unlock it, and what they might hope to achieve with the emergence of her abilities. Ward would die before he would let any of that happen. He had singlehandedly caused Skye enough pain over the previous few months to last anyone a lifetime, and so if he could act now and secure her safety for at least a while longer then he would do it, no matter the personal cost. After this latest stunt, he was fairly certain that his ambiguous status as a Hydra loyalist would be clarified beyond doubt.

A sudden knock on the door of the hotel room drew his attention, and Ward smirked as he shot a final glance at his hostages before making a show of raising his finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing gesture. The closer of the men – the head of research, who had written a particularly sickening report about Skye – began to bounce up and down on his rear, doing his level best to make himself heard over the tape wedged in his mouth. Shooting the man a murderous glare, Ward drew back his right leg and then delivered a swift and brutal kick to his face, which almost immediately rendered him unconscious. Turning off the bathroom light and plunging the prisoners into darkness, Ward moved out into the bedroom.

The knocking halted and, from his position behind the door, Ward pulled it open, giving the man on the other side no time to even shout for help before he grabbed him around the neck. Swiftly, he had added the Head of Technology to his quota.

Grabbing the shorter, older man by the throat to subdue him, Ward slammed the door closed and then threw the man against it, his arm pressed against his throat.

Gasping for breath, the man grappled helplessly with Ward’s forearm, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to breathe.

“Traitor…” he wheezed, his features stricken with panic as Ward spun him around.

The man shuddered as he heard Ward’s laughter behind him.

Looking at him incredulously, Ward shook his head, “I was never loyal to Hydra. I was never one of you.”

“Whitehall should have killed you when he had the chance…” the man spluttered, his pudgy fingers digging into Ward’s arm as he attempted to work himself free, but to no avail. He was certainly no match for the muscular and lean Specialist, especially given his penchant for ordering late night pizzas and his long-standing aversion to the annual Hydra fitness test.

Ward let out a bark of laughter that did not sound at all friendly, and the man found himself flinching.

“Whitehall never had the chance,” Ward replied, his voice a low and dangerous purr. He felt the man shudder in his grip and a ripple of pleasure coursed through his coiled muscles; Grant was by no means proud of what he had done in his past, but he certainly was nowhere near on the same level of evil douche-baggery as the men he now held captive. They seemed to relish their roles and their power, both of which had sealed the glum fates of many innocent men, women and even children over the years. Although Ward might view himself as a monster still, he did possess some form of moral compass, which he was doing his best to utilise more and more to navigate him through the minefield of life.

“You won’t get away with this…” the man tried again, hoping perhaps to instil some sort of fear in Ward, who only glared back at him through those dark and unblinking eyes. “You will die for this… you hear me?”

“Then at least I’ll die putting things right,” he bit back, the muscles in his lower jaw clenching as he continued to stare down at his prisoner. Six potential heads of the organisation would be toppled by the end of the night and yet it still didn’t seem enough to Grant. He was starting to think that perhaps nothing ever would.

Once happy that the men were securely bound, gagged, and not likely to cause issues, Ward pulled out his cell-phone and began to type in a message. Hitting ‘send’, he let out a sigh as he watched the message delivery icon blink, and then he sat down on a chair near the window to await Skye’s response.

He was under no illusion that she could ever love him again; not now she knew who he really was, not now he had hurt her so badly. But he was going to do everything in his power to prove he was not one of them - a Nazi, as she’d accused. He’d blindly followed Garrett out a sense of duty, his loyalty misplaced before he’d realised how utterly insane his former mentor had become.

His phone suddenly buzzed in his hand and a brief smile tugged at his lips as he read the response.

“I miss you,” he said aloud, his voice little more than a whisper for fear that his captives might overhear him.

Ward would wait until he knew S.H.I.E.L.D. were nearby before he left his hostages to be found and taken into custody. In the meantime, as he kept his vigil, he allowed his mind to wander over the possibility of forgiveness.

 

**x-x-x**

**31st December 2014**

**‘On the seventh day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

“But… what is it?” Coulson demanded, arching an eyebrow as he continued to stare down at the components that were spread out across the lab bench.

Simmons and Fitz stood in front of the counter, both wearing reinforced rubber gloves and with goggles pulled down to shield their eyes. Skye stood in the far corner of the lab, her arms folded over her chest and her back pressed against the wall as she observed with interest.

A crate had arrived at base first thing that morning, and Coulson had practically skipped down the corridor from his office in order to open it. Although he had been loathed to admit it at first, he was beginning to anticipate Ward’s little gifts with a real sense of excitement. He wasn’t about to grant the boy forgiveness or anything as rash as that but he could at least admit that he was beginning to develop a sliver of respect for Ward again. The disgraced Specialist had undoubtedly risked his life numerous times over the last week to provide S.H.I.E.L.D. with valuable intel, not to mention the fact that the newly reopened Fridge was suddenly filling up with Hydra lackeys thanks to his efforts.

“It’s a gun, sir,” Simmons supplied, directing a roll of her eyes at Fitz, who discreetly nodded his agreement at Coulson’s perceived stupidity.

“I already knew that, Agent Simmons,” Coulson retorted, his temper beginning to fray in the wake of Simmons’ open scorn. “It looked very much like a gun when I opened up the box. Now, not so much, so I’m guessing there’s a very good reason you’ve disassembled it?”

Clearing her throat with increasing impatience, Simmons gestured to the crate beside Skye, “Well in our defence, sir, there are six others in the box!”

Skye glanced at her side and peered over the rim of the wooden crate with a building sense of curiosity. During their brief and wholly off the cuff experiments with the new, as of yet unknown weapons, the pair had been strangely excited at the prospect of getting to grips with Hydra’s latest invention. An invention they were certain was not destined to be used for good.

“So… best we can surmise here,” Fitz began, noting the slightly narrowed eyed gaze Coulson shot him, “in the _two hours_ we’ve had to take a look at these wee things… is that they’re some sort of DNA recorder.”

Coulson rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression ever so slightly crestfallen. “So, they’re not weapons?”

“Oh yes, they most certainly are. They pack quite the punch on impact,” Simmons helpfully filled in, and yet again Coulson’s gaze drifted between her and Fitz like he was watching a tennis match. “This takes the ‘night, night’ gun to a completely new level of incapacitation.”

Fitz nodded vigorously, “Aye, see these babies deposit enough dendrotoxin to incapacitate your average sized African elephant.”

“Possibly your average Indian elephant too,” Simmons folded her arms across her chest as they regarded their boss with growing excitement.

“But why would you want to do that? That’d surely kill a human, right?” Coulson interjected.

“Ah, but these aren’t built to counter a human threat. We think these are something new, for _Inhuman_ targets,” Jemma corrected him, the excitement on her face wholly inappropriate given the topic of conversation.

Fitz reached down onto the table and almost gingerly used his thumb and forefinger to pick up what appeared to be a small, round pellet.

“Bullets?” Coulson estimated, frowning as he peered at the object Fitz wielded. Shaking his head, the Scot lowered the metallic looking item back onto the counter.

“Not exactly,” Fitz replied, “more like a super compact microchip contained within a metal casing that when fired at a high enough velocity possesses the capability to enter the blood stream of the target. Once in there, it begins to evaluate and record the DNA of the host subject, specifically focusing on things such as latent or manifested abilities, and potential genetic weakness.”

“So… a bullet with a notepad?” Skye queried, finally stepping forward and shooting a look of disdain at the pieces of the weapon.

“They’re preparing for an Inhuman war,” Coulson speculated, his mind suddenly fixed on the 084 status of a certain young hacker in the room.

Clearing her throat, Simmons added, “Or for an Inhuman genocide. This weapon will allow them to code, catalogue and perhaps even… replicate their genomes. In the wrong hands…”

“And I think we can all agree that Hydra are the worst hands, like… in the whole world. Ever,” Fitz supplied, gesturing emphatically towards the table with a nod.

“This could be catastrophic,” Coulson replied, his expression a mixture of shock and awe at what their scientists had been able to do. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own research and tech department were nowhere near this level of development in regards to weapons, a reality which was deeply troubling.

“We’re nowhere near this level of research…”

Skye shrugged, suddenly standing up and skirting as far as possible around the table as she joined their boss.

“Well, that’s probably because S.H.I.E.L.D. spend less time thinking about killing people than Hydra do. Murder’s like, way, way up on their ‘to do’ list.”

Simmons nodded, her face expression brightening slightly as she added, “What we really need of course is to speak to one of the people responsible for designing this weapon. That would enable us to understand the technology behind it much quicker than it’s going to take us to run trials and conduct our experiments.”

“Want me to see if Ward’s taking requests?” Skye deadpanned, her thoughts lingering on her former ‘almost’ lover for perhaps a little longer than they should have. Yet again she found herself worried about his safety, unable to imagine just what he was currently up to in his rabid quest for forgiveness. She’d started to think that perhaps that was something she might want – and like – to let him earn.

“Well, we do have six new recruits sitting in the transport module, just waiting for a nice, comfy cell in the Fridge,” Coulson said, directing a look at FitzSimmons, “it’s possible that one of them knows at least something about all this.”

“Not unlikely,” agreed Fitz as Simmons nodded her head.

“Draft a list of pertinent questions and I’ll see they’re asked,” Coulson stated, an almost wicked smile curving his lips upwards as he added, “by someone highly persuasive.”

“That sounds fun and, kind of deserved,” Skye supplied, a flash of anger coursing through her body as she glanced back down at the weapon that would perhaps enable Hydra to wipe out an entire people.

Slowly pulling her phone from her pocket, Skye glanced cautiously around at her colleagues before she stole away towards the back of the room, leaving the three of them happily caught up in conversation.

She peered over at them guiltily even as her fingertips began moving over the keys on her phone. The number was now committed to memory. She hurried to type out the message, her thumb hovering over ‘send’ whilst she gnawed on her bottom lip as she  debated committing to taking this step forwards.

_‘D.C. says you did good. Thank you.’_

The message left her phone a moment later – not wholly truthful, of course, but also not completely a lie. The truth was too complicated to convey, but she felt Grant Ward’s latest actions deserved the praise they were due.

Before she could stop herself, she sent a second message.

_‘Be safe out there, Robot.’_

When seconds later the only response she received was a tiny, grey robot emoji, Skye couldn’t help the smile that consumed her.

 

**x-x-x**

**1 st January 2015**

**‘On the eighth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, eight moles a’sneaking, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

She couldn’t help the guilt gnawing away at her gut as she slid into the diner booth, the peak of her baseball cap pulled down low in order to partially obscure her face. The man sitting parallel to her didn’t bother to lower the menu he appeared to be examining, just waited for her to shrug out of her coat before he even glanced up. His eyes pierced her, and she resisted the urge to shudder, having forgotten just how intense those brown orbs could be. This whole thing felt like a betrayal somehow; a betrayal of S.H.I.E.L.D., a betrayal of her friends, and overall a betrayal of her own dignity. Ward had hurt her beyond measure and yet here she was, consenting to meet him in a backwater diner somewhere outside of Washington, for reasons he had yet to reveal to her. She couldn’t help but feel slightly ashamed with herself when she realised just how readily she had agreed to the meeting. Skye knew that the ache she felt in her chest whenever she thought of Grant had in no small part played a role in that eagerness.

Shaking off her gloves, Skye settled behind the table and leaned against the ripped leather seat. She did her best to affix Ward with a stare that demanded immediate explanations, but she couldn’t help but be a little concerned that her expression was coming off more as relief at seeing him. Especially if the warm smile curving his lips upwards was any indication to go by.

“You look good,” he said by way of greeting, and Skye blushed rather than bark out a protest as she may have done a fortnight ago. That man who had peered back at her through the barrier in Vault D, unkempt looking and near desolate, seemed like a distant memory now. Ward looked well, she found herself pleased to realise; he had lost the mountain man beard and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he just somehow looked a lot less hollow than he had done the last time she had seen him. When Coulson had been shoving him down the corridor of the Playground to prepare to hand him over to his childhood abuser.

Shrugging self-consciously, Skye managed a smile, “So do you.”

Feeling more and more ridiculous by the second, Skye pulled off the baseball cap and placed it down on the booth beside her. She paused as the waitress appeared next to the table - an older, rounded woman with hair arguably the colour of Santa’s suit.

They relayed their order quickly, and it was only as Skye skimmed the menu Ward passed her that she realised how hungry she was. He watched her fondly, apparently thrilled that she felt comfortable enough to share a meal with him and, according to the length of her order, a pretty big meal at that.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. stopped feeding you or something?” he chuckled, his grin widening as she rolled her eyes at his teasing. Familiarity clenched at his heart.

“I eat when I’m nervous,” she dismissed him with a shrug, “besides, those burgers smell really good.”

Ward’s brows knit into a frown and he regarded her intently, as if her words had somehow upset him.

“You’re nervous? I make you nervous? Skye… you never have a reason to be afraid of me, I would never…”

Cutting him off with a shake of her head, she offered him a smile as she explained, “I’m not afraid of you, Ward. I just… it makes me antsy going behind everybody’s back.”

Ward nodded his understanding, barely managing to lock down the look of regret that crashed across his features. Still, it was there fleetingly, and Skye caught it. It gave her pause, and perhaps hope that maybe Grant really did wish he could turn back time to the moment where it counted. 

“I’m sorry about… putting you in this position,” Ward declared, clearing his throat roughly and almost squirming in his seat.

“Me too,” Skye replied as she folded her hands on the table top, “for what it’s worth, I’ve thought a lot about things and, well, as much as you’re still a duplicitous asshole, I realise now that what we did… what we were going to do… was wrong.”

This time, Ward couldn’t prevent the look of astonishment from crossing over his face, but he managed to nod his head.

“I know why you are the way you are, Ward,” Skye said, biting her bottom lip as she hesitantly reached across the table and rested her hand on Ward’s arm, “whilst I can’t forgive what you’ve done, I can understand it. I can recognise how easily it could have been me. I remember what it was like to be a scared kid, nobody there to look out for you… how desperate you can become.”

“I wish neither of us knew what that was like,” Ward mumbled, his voice tight and unnatural sounding.

“Yeah, but we do,” Skye smiled wistfully, running her fingertips over his arm, too lost in thought to realise her own actions. “I want you to be telling me the truth, Ward. I want to believe you so badly. Because I know the guy you... _I know_ that wasn’t all an act and there is good in you. You don’t have to be who Garrett made you. You can still be the man I thought you were. He’s in there somewhere.”

Ward gaped, at a loss to either reply or even comprehend that the woman he had hurt so badly - the woman he thought he would always love – could be sitting in front of him, all but offering him a second chance to prove himself.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Skye. To make amends,” he offered simply.

Chancing her anger, he moved his hand towards hers where it still rested on his arm, and he very hesitantly stroked his fingertips over hers. Skye stared at him silently, swallowing as she felt her mouth run dry and Ward kept staring at her with such hope and brazen adoration that she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“You must be pissing off an awful lot of people right now,” she stated, “Hydra’s golden boy goes rogue? They’ll have people after you, Grant.”

Ward shook his head in confusion, seemingly desperate to set her straight.

“Skye, I was never loyal to Hydra. I wasn’t a part of that. It was John, I… I was loyal to John. I figured I owed him, but… I never wanted to hurt you. You’re the only thing I’ve ever cared about in my life, Skye, and when I realised…” he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth that memories of John Garrett evoked, “when I realised what he’d become, what he’d done to _you_ … I hated myself more than you or Coulson, or any of the team ever could. I want to make it right, I need to.”

Skye finally withdrew her hand, mindful that she shouldn’t give Ward the wrong idea. His atonement could not be solidified in a week, and she couldn’t allow him to believe that there was presently more between them than some sort of uneasy comradery. He seemed to understand that and so he leaned a little further away, still wearing a soft smile.

“Well, this is a good start,” Skye replied, and she straightened up again in her seat. She cocked her head as she regarded Ward, this time with a no-nonsense purse of her lips, “So, what have you got for me?”

Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, Ward carefully withdrew an envelope, which he slid across the table quickly and without fuss. Following his lead, Skye covertly pulled the envelope off the table and wasted no time in jamming it into her messenger bag.

“Do I at least get a hint?” she inquired, a grin lighting her features, “because that burger isn’t going to taste half as good if I’m still thinking about what’s in that envelope.”

Ward chuckled and took just a moment to sweep his gaze around the diner, searching out any potential threats. It was a force of habit by now, and one that he would not neglect even though the restaurant was essentially deserted, save for a couple of waitresses and what appeared to be a table of off duty truckers. It was a miserable way to spend New Year’s Day, but Ward had endured worse.

Cocking his head, Ward leaned in closer and replied, “That’s a list of all the Hydra sleepers within S.H.I.E.L.D. Their names, badge numbers, private addresses… everything you need.”

Skye’s mouthed dropped open and she stared at him in bewilderment, “There’s more of them? Like, inside S.H.I.E.L.D.? Right now?”

Ward simply nodded, glancing up as the waitress placed their meals down in front of them.

Offering a brief smile of thanks, Ward watched as Skye picked up a fry from her plate and bit into it. Her enthusiasm for the meal seemed to have been dampened somewhat.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, sitting forward in her seat as she stared at him urgently, “how are you finding all of this crap out, Grant? You said you weren’t a part of Hydra but…”

“I wasn’t. I’m not,” he assured her, offering her the most honest response he could. “But I can coast by on Garrett’s name. For now, anyway. Plenty of people owed Garrett a favour, so they help me out… not realising that…”

“That you’re using them to get at what you want?!” Skye finished his sentence, noting how ashamed his expression had become. Not due to his current actions against Hydra, but for how she may be once again reminded of his deeds all those months ago.

Skye pushed her plate away, her appetite having dissipated.

“Ward, this is dangerous as hell,” she protested, shaking her head, “you have to stop.”

“I can’t do that,” Ward replied immediately, mirroring Skye’s gesture of shaking his head.

“This can’t be negotiable,” Skye snapped, glancing around her quickly before she hissed, “ _you are going to die, Ward_.”

Ward paused, frowning, seeming to deliberate over his next words. Finally, he muttered, “Just a couple of weeks ago you would have said that was a good thing. Should have run faster, right?”

Skye looked crushed; even the memory of the terrible things she’d said to him made her feel sick to the stomach and she shook her head furiously.

“I was hurt, and angry, and… I wanted you to feel the same kind of pain I did. You broke my heart, Grant, what did you expect? But this is insane, I won’t let you carry on this way.”

Ward glanced down at the table before he sought out Skye’s eyes, his expression bordering on desperation. “I have to do this, Skye. I have to finish it.”

Her jaw clenching in anger, she shoved her plate into the centre of the table, attracting the gazes of a couple of truckers who sat across the diner from them.

“Fine. Kill yourself, Grant.”

Ward was visibly stunned by her outburst, left wondering just when it was that she had decided she cared if he lived or died.

“What makes you think I’m gonna get myself killed? I can look after myself. I escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, remember?!” trying his best to sound confident, he added, “I’m a Specialist, it’s what I do. And I’m the best, we both know that.”

“You are not invincible, Ward,” Skye spat back, her hand clenching into a fist as her frustration overcame her.

“I don’t need to be invincible, I just need to be better than them,” he countered, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t deserve that after everything I did.”

“Don’t you think I’ve lost enough?” Skye all but shouted, slamming her balled hand down on the table and glaring at Ward. She was breathing hard through flared nostrils, her mouth pressed into a thin line and her chin wobbling dangerously.

Ward regarded her coolly but not unkindly. For once, his own heart thrummed in his chest, suggesting fear and also a degree of shock. He hadn’t expected her reaction, her words, and he wasn’t wholly sure what to do with them now. He still loved her, it was true. He would probably always love her, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t delude himself like that anymore, and he certainly couldn’t bring himself to ruin her even more than he previously had.

“You don’t have me, Skye,” he replied, quietly but firmly. His eyes dropped to the surface of the table and he allowed his fork to clatter down to meet his plate.

Regarding him evenly, Skye retorted, “I never will if you’re dead. Then what’s the point in any of this?”

Ward stared down at his plate for a few moments, hesitant to lift his gaze. He could feel her eyes burning into him, and he kept his tone low as he replied.

“To prove to you that I’m sorry. That I can be… at least something like the guy you thought I was.” Gesturing to her plate, he added with a fleeting smile, “Please… finish your food.”

Skye felt an overpowering urge to punch him, but she reined it in admirably; this time though, her anger was born out of frustration and fear rather than loathing. Not fear of him, but fear for him. Of losing him once and for all, and never being able to even explore a future where she could find it in her heart to forgive him. She suspected the pang in her chest indicated that she could very easily love him again.

“Got somewhere to be?” she probed, picking up another fry with reluctance.

“Yes,” he nodded, chancing a brief glance at his watch, “but not for a couple of hours. I have no right to ask you for anything, but… please… just stay.”

Skye said nothing, just continued to eat her fries whilst she stared almost aimlessly out of the window. She had gotten so much better at locking down her emotions, Ward noted, and he gathered that latest development could be attributed to her training with Agent May. It made him sad to witness in a way. Skye’s tendency to be overly emotional, excitable, and everything that a staid agent shouldn’t be was one of the things that he had first found most attractive about her. It was certainly one of the first things about her that he had grown to admire. She cared deeply about anything and everything, and nothing ever seemed too trivial for her attention. Ward found himself hoping deeply that May wouldn’t succeed in turning her into just another S.H.I.E.L.D. robot.

“I forgot to say…” Ward spoke up, surprising even himself by fracturing the silence. However, he found that he just couldn’t endure it anymore, and he no longer wanted to feel Skye’s quiet anger radiating towards him. “Happy New Year, Skye. I hope… I hope this one is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Skye swallowed hard before dabbing at her lips with a napkin. Then, she looked up at Ward, her eyes sweeping his features as though she was looking for something specific. Whatever it was, the disappointed quirk of her lips told him that she hadn’t found it.

“I don’t make resolutions,” she said finally, balling up the napkin and tossing it onto her plate, which indicated that she was done with her meal even though she had eaten less than half. “But maybe I will this year.”

“Got anything in mind?” Ward asked, his curiosity absolutely genuine. He examined Skye’s body language for any clues but came up empty, which was frustrating to say the least.

Pursing her lips, Skye shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. But if you’re still alive next week maybe I’ll tell you.”

She held his gaze longer than she intended, releasing a heavy-hearted sigh at the turn events had taken recently; or more accurately, over the last six months.

A grin tugged at his lips, and Skye felt a slow, lazy smile blossom on her own face despite her misgivings.

“Deal,” he said, glancing back towards the counter and arching an eyebrow as he led Skye’s gaze in that direction. “You know I think they have cheesecake back there.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, folding her arms across her chest whilst she gazed at him almost analytically.

“You’re buying.”

Smirking, Ward gestured for the waitress to return to the table as Skye shoved the envelope deeper into her bag, then secured the straps for good measure.

They remained in the diner for another thirty minutes before they were forced to admit that they were perhaps pushing their luck a little when it came to potentially being discovered. Almost reluctantly, they said their goodbyes and Skye left first, not once shooting a backward glance over her shoulder.

Ward kept his eyes trained on her all the way to the door, watching her retreating figure with longing. Just sometimes, in her presence, he dared to hope that one day his mission would be achieved, and perhaps he would find absolution for his crimes. Yet when he lay in bed at night, alone and simultaneously lonely, he was forced to admit to himself the cold, hard truth; some things were just unforgiveable. It was with that realisation that Ward had come to accept and even embrace the possibility of his own death. After all, he wasn’t certain that he wanted to live any more with the knowledge that he was damned. He had always been a man who preferred to cut to the chase. He had sealed his fate when he had blindly followed Garrett into Hell. There was no use prolonging the inevitable.

 


	3. On the 9th Day of Christmas...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elements of this chapter are very loosely based on the time WelshWitch had emergency surgery - and promptly serenaded the recovery room nurses with Simple Minds 'Don't You Forget About Me'.

**2 nd January 2015**

**‘On the ninth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, nine ladies dancing, eight moles a’sneaking, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

“I need… I need help with this one.”

The call had come late in the evening, and Skye had wasted no time in answering it. She found herself suited up in tac. gear and armed to the teeth, heading out to ‘borrow’ an SUV, before she had really registered what she was doing. It was as she had slid into the driver’s seat of the vehicle that she had been discovered, by Agent May nonetheless. Her mentor and superior had seemed less than thrilled by Skye’s garbled explanation of her actions, but she had still climbed into the car beside her, loathed to allow her inexperienced rookie to head into the potential fray alone. Although May knew Skye wouldn’t technically be the only body at the scene, she didn’t trust Grant Ward with the woman’s safety. Whilst he had proven himself somewhat useful of late, he was still a born liar, traitor, psychopath, and seasoned killer. May would be a fool to allow Skye to go it alone.

“Did he give you any indication at all of what he wanted?” May inquired for perhaps the third or fourth time in a row. Skye was barely managing to check her temper, her fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that they had whitened.

“He just said that he needed me, that’s all,” Skye relayed, barely managing to work the irritation out of her voice before she spoke. May shot her a look that could almost be described as dubious.

“He said he needed you specifically?” she checked, her mind already racing with a hundred and one ways in which Ward could possibly have been setting a trap for Skye. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a history of kidnapping her, after all.

Bristling with annoyance, Skye replied, “He said he needed help, May, and I wasn’t about to round up the people who hate him most in the world to see if they were feeling benevolent, okay? I’m as good as back up for Grant Ward gets.”

Gritting her teeth, her expression murderous, May was silent for the remainder of the journey, her mind no doubt turning Ward’s betrayal over and over until her anger had once again been sparked. Skye remained quiet as she surreptitiously sent a message to Ward to check that everything was okay; or more specifically, that he still had a pulse.

They arrived at the location the coordinates indicated only to find themselves in one of the seedy areas of the city, outside a ‘gentlemen’s club’ that looked like the exterior had last seen maintenance during the Nixon administration.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?” May huffed, standing outside the apparently empty building that didn’t appear to have opened for business that night.

“I don’t know, unusual activity I guess,” Skye shrugged, ignoring the brief smirk that lit up May’s features.

Shooting a gaze up at the flashing neon signage, where a topless woman was sitting inside a martini glass, May quirked an eyebrow as she imagined the litany of ‘unusual’ activity that usually took place within the walls.

“We’re outside a strip club, Skye. We’re gonna need something more specific.”

Grumbling under her breath, Skye pulled her cell phone out again and swiped at the screen, preparing to send Ward another message to see where he had disappeared to. Especially since he had yet to answer her last message.

“Wait, you have his cell number?” May demanded, glaring at Skye through narrowed eyes. “Have you told Coulson?”

“I have the number of his burner phone, yes,” Skye replied, her annoyance obvious as she planted a hand on her hip and levelled a glare at May.

“And she’ll have tomorrow’s too,” a familiar voice declared. May’s head whipped around to the side and she squinted into the darkness of the nearby alley, from the mouth of which Ward emerged, his hands held out in front of his body to demonstrate that he carried no weapons.

“Why the hell haven’t you turned him in, Skye?” May snapped, her lip curling as she fought the urge to let out a growl, “why haven’t you at least traced the line?”

“Come on, May,” Ward interjected, shaking his head and releasing a dark chuckle, “do you really think I’m dumb enough to keep the same cell for more than 24 hours?”

“You really want me to answer that?” May queried, not a single shred of amusement present in her tone.

“Believe it or not, I’m on your side.” Ward narrowed his eyes, as if thinking over the last week of ‘gifts’ he’d left at Coulson’s feet and how happy the S.H.I.E.L.D. director had been to accept them. He had certainly skipped off to interrogate each Hydra operative with a spring in his step and no talk of telling Ward to cease his crusade. Although, unlike Skye, he didn’t care a single bit for Ward’s welfare.

May rolled her eyes as Ward turned his body away from her, purposefully only addressing Skye. He didn’t have time for May’s attitude; as much as he understood her loathing of him, it wouldn’t help current matters.

“The club owners are tied up in their office upstairs, they should be waking up soon. There’s a few… casualties. Hydra operatives, nobody who’ll be missed,” he relayed patiently, watching as Skye nodded her understanding. “This place is a front for human trafficking.”

Skye blanched, wrinkling her nose in distaste, “Hardly shocking Hydra’s into that shit, I guess.”

Ward nodded, looking as if he were for once out of his depth.

“The girls who work here are captives. I’ve opened the cells in the basement, but… they’re not real keen to move. I guess they heard the gunshots, and I don’t look like someone they need to be trusting right now. I need you to take them to S.H.I.E.L.D., get them to safety.”

“Oh… wow…” Skye breathed, her top front teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she shot a glance at the club, which stood in total darkness.

“I tried going down there, talking to them, but we both know I’m not exactly a people person,” Ward said, a wry smile on his face as he spoke. “I thought maybe they’d respond better to you… you always seem to know what to say.”

May let out a snort, ignoring the glare that Skye directed at her.

“I’ll do my best,” Skye agreed as she squared her shoulders in preparation for the task ahead. Thankfully, she couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the traumatised women currently hiding out in the basement had gone through; how they had been conditioned, brainwashed, or abused to proportions that meant they would view even their rescuer as a figure of suspicion.

“Well, I never knew you were such a feminist, Ward,” said May sardonically. She tilted her head as she regarded the former agent, who couldn’t hide his own irritation at the woman’s words. Regardless of what May might think of him on a personal level, he had never been one to stand idly by and watch abuse occur, especially after the past he had endured. The situation he had found the nine girls in had genuinely disgusted him, and so he hadn’t hesitated in taking down the whole operation in order to secure their freedom. This one was less for Coulson and definitely more for the benefit of Hydra’s prisoners.

May’s lips drew into a tight line as she suddenly found two incredulous and irritated glares levelled at her.

She let out an exasperated sigh as she shot Skye a pointed look, “I’ll be down in the basement… I’m calling this in, so your boyfriend might want to disappear.”

Skye watched her go, suddenly self-conscious as she found Ward smiling down at her.

“I’m sorry,” he offered with a shrug, “I didn’t know who else to call. I figured S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to help them, get them medical attention… not really my area of expertise.”

“It’s okay,” Skye shook her head, thinking on May’s parting shot as she bounced on the balls of her feet and peered up at him.

“You should probably…” she gestured behind him to the street, trying to ignore the dip in the pit of her stomach as he nodded yet made no effort to take his eyes off her face. “I’m gonna make sure they know who rescued them. They should know.”

“Not necessary,” Ward smiled in response. He blinked quickly when Skye leaned up on impulse and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm against her lips, his stubble rough and prickly, and her desire began to grow, setting all of the nerves in her body on edge. He smelled just as she remembered; clean and safe, just a hint of leather and gun powder present, making her bite her lip in longing.

“I’ll message you? Let you know how they are?” she suggested, her eyes wide as he reached out and placed his fingertips against her cheek. He moved hesitantly, as if afraid of spooking her, and she audibly gasped when his skin connected with hers.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and Skye found herself nodding, although she had put very little actual thought into the gesture. She opened her mouth to speak but a clatter from inside the club drew her attention, and her head whipped around so that her gaze could focus on the unlit window. She waited several seconds, listening for a call for assistance from May, yet none came.

“I…” Skye began, turning back to face Ward. However, he had gone, and all that greeted Skye was a view of the cold, desolate street.

Letting out a sigh, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the building, where her presence was needed.

 

**x-x-x**

**3 rd January 2015**

**‘On the tenth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, ten plots a’leaking, nine ladies dancing, eight moles a’sneaking, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

Pacing up and down in front of the interrogation room door, Coulson jammed his fingertips down the collar of his shirt and pulled the constricting fabric away from his neck. He checked his watch multiple times, his unease at this ‘arrangement’ bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

The man was easily discernible from the other figures in the hallway; tall, dark, and striding towards the cell with obvious intent and some urgency. Drawing to a stop in front of the director, the newly and temporarily appointed ‘consultant’ landed an even and yet slightly uncertain gaze on the older man.

“Where is he?” the younger man pressed, not wasting time on pleasantries. He folded his arms over his broad chest and awaited instruction, still the model soldier at heart.

“In there,” Coulson deflected his gaze to the closed door with a nod of his head, “he’s not talking. He’s not frightened of May, and he sure as Hell wasn’t frightened of me. But let me get this straight here and now; you’re here to talk to him. You take your shot, then you leave. You wouldn’t even be here if we hadn’t found the project plans contained Skye’s name. We need to get information out of this douchebag before they make a play for her.”

Nodding his head, the hired mercenary shrugged, as if wholly confident in his abilities. They were after all infamous within S.H.I.E.L.D.

“I’m not about to let anything happen to Skye. He’ll talk.”

Coulson examined him closely, taking a final moment to evaluate the plan before he simply swallowed down his uncertainties and handed over the key card needed to access the interrogation cell.

“Cameras are off. He’s all yours,” Coulson announced, adding hesitantly, “I don’t care what you have to do.”

Narrowing his eyes, the younger man frowned, as though shocked to hear those words come out of Coulson’s mouth. They appeared to take him by surprise but, more than that, he also seemed disappointed to hear them.

“Noted,” he said absently.

Opening the door to the cell, Coulson peered into the centre of the room and regarded the stoic Hydra scientist with a beaming smile. The man barely blinked, his hands resting on the table top. He appeared unmoved by the director’s intrusion.

“Dr. Eckholdt… there’s somebody here who’d like to talk to you.”

The taller man stepped from behind Coulson, using his emergence from the shadows to his advantage. He smiled in a predatory gesture as the introduction was made.

“Meet Grant Ward.”

“I know who he is,” the doctor replied, chuckling scornfully as though he was not at all cowed by Ward’s appearance. His lips twisted and in the next instant, he spat on the floor just in front of Grant’s boots.

“Traitor,” he accused before turning his head away as though both bored by the visitor and yet simultaneously repulsed by him.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before, ‘doc’,” Ward said mockingly, shooting a look at Coulson that indicated he should leave.

Coulson made for the door of the interrogation room, where he paused with one hand pressed against the metal. He hoped he was doing the right thing but there was no way to tell yet; confirmation would only come with the acquisition of information. Surprisingly, even May had supported this play, which Coulson never would have guessed possible in a million years. However, he had seen the look of cold, steely fury cross the woman’s eyes when she had skimmed the Hydra document that had Skye’s name plastered all over it.

Two hours later, Ward emerged from the interrogation cell, his knuckles bloody and his expression murderous after discovering what the Hydra scientists had planned for Skye; plans he would never, ever allow to come to fruition.

Though Dr. Eckholdt had been confident in his ability to withstand even the most brutal of interrogation strategies, one thing he hadn’t been banking on was receiving said interrogation at the hands of the man who perhaps loved their potential test subject more than anything in the world. It took Ward less than forty minutes to break him.

Stretching out his hands and feeling a familiar burn warming his knuckles, Ward slipped unseen into Coulson’s office, and the next hour was spent in deep, unsavoury conversation as the Specialist reported his findings.

When it came time for Ward to leave, he shot a suspicious glance at the doorway to Coulson’s office, half expecting to find a full S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team present and ready to detain him. When he saw nothing but a darkened, empty corridor, he was nothing short of stunned. Intercepting the look of surprise that flitted across Ward’s face, Coulson cleared his throat.

“I’m a man of my word, Ward,” he declared, unable still to chase away the edge of bitterness to his voice, “I promised that this time you’d be free to go and so you are.”

Ward nodded his head, debating quickly whether to utter a few words of thanks or if that would only pique Coulson’s annoyance further. The director didn’t seem at all pleased to be allowing a known fugitive to simply stroll out of the base, but he had the information he had sought, courtesy of Ward, and no less than nine other upcoming Hydra plots to begin unravelling. Coupled with the ‘presents’ Ward had been gifting them with over the last week or so, Coulson had to admit that the man was perhaps of more use to him on the outside of the organisation than he was behind a security field.

Ward halted as the sound of Coulson’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Hanging his head down, he jammed his hands in his pockets and awaited the question he’d been expecting since he arrived.

“Ward? What is it you think you’re gonna get out of all of this? These… little breadcrumbs, the ‘gifts’ you’ve been leaving?”

Turning around to face his former employer, Ward held his gaze, making sure he could see the honesty and sincerity in his expression. Swallowing hard, he replied, “Forgiveness.”

Coulson was taken aback for a moment, not having expected that response. He’d thought perhaps Ward wanted to prove his worth to S.H.I.E.L.D. or was simply acting to destroy the Hydra machine that had ensnared him via John Garrett.

Not knowing quite what to say, Coulson merely arched an eyebrow as Ward spoke again, although this time there was a hint of desperation in his tone.

“Whatever you do, Coulson… don’t let them get to Skye… please. Keep her safe, no matter what.”

“They won’t touch her,” Coulson said, and it was a vow, Ward could tell. The two men, once team mates and now sworn enemies, exchanged long looks; one was filled with curiosity and the other with only sorrow.

Without another word, Ward walked away, quickly and quietly, as he had promised to do before his arrival. Skye would never know he had been there – never know his involvement in this latest development, which was paramount to her safety. No matter how much it hurt, Ward was acutely aware that it was better that way.

 

**x-x-x**

 

**4th January 2015**

**‘On the eleventh day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, eleven snipers sniping, ten plots a’leaking, nine ladies dancing, eight moles a’sneaking, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

Drumming her fingers against the sides of her laptop, Skye fidgeted listlessly with her ear piece, watching the map and street view on the screen. Her anxiety was rocketing, although she had no idea why. Something just felt off, right down to her bones.

May was leading a recon. team to track down an Inhuman, who had apparently been caught up in a series of arson incidents all over the East side of the city. Intelligence had tracked him to an abandoned factory in a less savoury part of town, but something about the ease with which they received the information made Skye – and the rest of the team – incredibly nervous.

“Anything?” Coulson barked into the communications device, his arms folded across his chest as he stared up at the main screen, where he could see the green dots that represented his team blinking away.

“Nothing,” May relayed, and he heard her sigh across the mouthpiece, “this feels like a trap, Coulson.”

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he replied anxiously, “Alright, get out of there, May.”

Skye tapped away at the keyboard, fingers moving so fast and fluidly that they were a blur. She pulled up the feed from the security cameras lining the neighbourhood and maximised the window on the one that gave her the best view of May and the small team accompanying her.

She watched for several minutes as May proceeded around the back of the factory building, her hand floating at her hip as she prepared to draw her firearm at a moment’s notice. Everything appeared to be running smoothly, up until the moment that the agent immediately behind May overtook her and turned the corner of the building.

A gunshot rang out and his body hit the ground hard. His eyes were still open, frozen wide in the moment of death.

“Shit…” May cursed over her comms. device, and Skye could only watch with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the S.H.I.E.L.D. team flattened themselves against the wall. Another shot resounded and Skye’s eyelids slammed closed as her heart rate begin to pick up. She would never get used to watching her colleagues fall, especially when it was over something as impersonal as a computer screen and she was powerless to do anything practical to help.

“May?” Coulson all but yelled, the control now gone from his tone, “get out of there!”

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” she ground back, and Skye could almost hear the grimace on her face. “There are hostiles in the building overlooking the railway tracks, snipers on the roof…”

Another shot rang out and Skye was very tempted to close her eyes. “… And on the fourth floor… second and sixth windows…”

Skye’s fingers tapped away on the laptop and almost immediately a refreshed image appeared on the screen. A glut of red dots swarmed the abandoned building, effectively cutting off May’s escape path.

Fitz, who had remained pensively silent until that point, suddenly gestured emphatically at the screen, “There’s eight… nine… ten of the bastards… no wait, eleven…”

He furrowed his brow as he counted and then recounted the heat signatures blinking into existence.

The group watched as one of the red figures seemed to approach another, almost ghosting over it. The images merged and then flickered, but just as quickly parted. The second dot suddenly glowed orange, it’s heat signature ebbing away.

“Wait… wait a second, what is that?” Coulson held up his hand to ensure that Skye didn’t change their current view.

Skye peered at the screen through narrowed eyes, watching as the red figure approached another and then another of the Hydra agents; each time their heat signature began to fade away to nothing.

“Is that… is that guy taking out the others?”

Skye sucked in a breath and held it, her fingers gripping the edge of the table hard. Fitz moved out of his seat and leaned over Skye’s shoulder, his nose almost pressed flush against the laptop screen.

“Just like Russia…” he murmured, a small smile beginning to twitch at his lips.

On the screen, dot after tiny red dot began to blink out, whilst bullets continued to rain down on the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

“May, there’s five hostiles left in the area,” Skye relayed, springing back into life as another red speck flashed off the screen, “can you get to cover yet?”

“Negative,” May said, clearly through gritted teeth, “there’s still a sniper on the roof.”

Almost systematically the red figures were eliminated, leaving only one within the building and two on the roof. The team watched engrossed as rapidly the inside of the building was cleared.

“He’s going up onto the roof,” Fitz stated, all three transfixed by the scene playing out before them.

“Or she,” Skye replied playfully, chancing a smile since it looked like their fortunes out in the field may be changing for the better. Unless, of course, their renegade figure was to suddenly turn on May’s team. But the odds of one versus six were better than the odds the Cavalry’s team had walked in to.

“Nah, that’s a guy, that’s… that’s…” Fitz’s eyes grew wide as all three paused to watch the two heat signatures on the roof be joined by a third. Almost at the exact same time, the two dots disappeared from their posting on the warehouse roof.

“ _That’s Ward_.”

Realisation striking him, Fitz sat down heavily on the seat next to Skye. The three watching agents floundered and gaped in abject shock at the screen.

Suddenly remembering May and her team, Skye spoke hurriedly into the comms.

“Uh… the hostiles have been… cleared,” she said askance, “get your asses out of their, May!”

“Copy that,” May replied, too busy leading her team to safety to even ask to whom she owed their break in luck.

“Ward?” Coulson asked askance, “but… he just took out an entire Hydra away team.”

Skye nodded, thinking back on their earlier days on the Bus, when she’d awarded him the moniker ‘Seal Team 6’.

“Not like he hasn’t done that before… I’ve seen him take out 12 guys without breaking a sweat. He’s the best,” she said quietly, watching as Coulson’s eyes wavered from the screen and he yanked his tie away from his collar.

“But… but why?” Coulson demanded, shaking his head even as his gaze ticked back to the monitor, which he watched intently for a while. The red dot that they had realised was no other than their former Specialist appeared to be making its way down the fire escape of the opposite building, meaning that he would not cross paths with the strike team, who were heading to the roof of the factory in order to be extracted by a quin jet.

“I think you know why by now, D.C.,” Skye replied, shooting Coulson a significant look. The director frowned, raking one hand through what remained of his hair.

“Forgiveness,” Coulson scoffed, as though such an idea was truly insane. He glanced away from Skye when she narrowed her eyes at him and affixed him with the full weight of her irritated stare, but she said nothing.

Skye swallowed hard, looking up at Fitz’s expression to try to read him. Seeing that he appeared to be in at least semi-agreement with her, she continued on, “Yeah, well maybe we should think about that, D.C.”

Feebly holding up his hand, Fitz cleared his throat, “I um… I wouldn’t be totally opposed to it. I mean, I’m not saying I forgive Ward for what… what he did, but… maybe he at least deserves the chance to try?”

“What he said,” Skye agreed, gesturing to Fitz with one hand. For a fleeting second, she looked down at her feet, almost as if she were ashamed of the memory. “I’ve read his file, Coulson. I’ve read what Garrett did. Ward was just a kid and he was abused, he was… made into somebody he’s not. We didn’t try to help him, we just… turned him over to his abuser. And that makes us no better than John, or his brother, or his parents. Let him try.”

“He tried to kill FitzSimmons!” Coulson protested, lips twisting into a frown that communicated his own displeasure at the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, I was there,” Fitz retorted. He perched on the edge of the desk, watching Skye from the corner of his eye as she closed the lid of her laptop. The extraction was well under way and now there was nothing else to do but wait for May and the remaining agents to make it back to base. A second team would be sent to retrieve the body of their fallen comrade.

“That’s not what I…” began Coulson, his cheeks colouring in embarrassment as he found himself subjected to Fitz’s hard stare, “I know that, Fitz. I’m sorry that we failed you. I won’t ever forgive myself for that. But Ward is a coldblooded killer and we can’t just…”

“You failed him too, you know,” Fitz stated boldly as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared levelly at Coulson. The director’s mouth fell open and a look of sheer horror crashed across his features.

“What?” he demanded. He could hardly believe what he was hearing; after the brain damage Fitz had suffered as a result of Ward’s actions, Coulson had believed the Scot would be the very last person advocating for the man’s forgiveness.

“I failed him?” Coulson repeated, his tone increasing in volume and pitch, “I gave him a team… a purpose… a roof over his head, Agent Fitz, and he threw that all back in my face. He sold us out, risked our lives, and he didn’t care a damn.”

Fitz batted his hand at his boss, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, well it looks a heck of a lot like he does care,” he gestured to the screen where the heat signatures of the fallen men had now all but vanished. “You’ve made thirty-seven arrests this week, Coulson. Every single one of them came from Ward. I don’t… I don’t think he was trying to kill me and Jemma. In some desperate, misguided way he was trying to save us. Even we didn’t know the bloody pod would sink. But I tell you what - Garrett? He would have killed us and not thought twice about it.”

Coulson sat down heavily, yanking his tie clean off his neck and tossing it onto the table. He bent down and rested his face in his hands, letting out a truly weary groan.

“Call him in for a meeting,” Coulson muttered, his expression belaying that he wasn’t even close to happy with the plan. Glancing at Skye, he added shortly, “I’m assuming you know how to contact him.”

“Yeah, I do,” Skye said with a shrug, not even pretending to be ashamed of the revelation.

Coulson shot the young agent – the woman who had become his pseudo daughter – a look that more than conveyed his concern.

“I hope you know what you’re doing here, Skye,” he murmured, ignoring how her eyes flashed with irritation as she regarded him. Just a few weeks ago, she would rather have died than place her trust in Grant Ward again, such was the pain of his betrayal, and yet he had somehow managed to worm his way back into her good graces. That didn’t sit well with Coulson at all. He often saw Skye as emotionally vulnerable due to the traumas of her past and he would be damned if he allowed Ward to take advantage of her again. However, he had to admit that the assistance he had provided S.H.I.E.L.D. with of late had been invaluable, and Ward had seemed especially keen to ensure that Skye stayed out of Hydra’s hands.

In short, Coulson’s emotions were waging an internal war – the very human longing for vengeance pitted against his true desire to be able to say that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. did indeed offer everyone a second chance. The problem was, Coulson wasn’t sure if he really was capable of being the bigger man. He supposed he would find out, sooner rather than later.

 

**x-x-x**

**5th January 2015**

**‘On the twelfth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, twelve doctors dealing, eleven snipers sniping, ten plots a’leaking, nine ladies dancing, eight moles a’sneaking, seven guns a’gleaming, six heads a’plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…’**

 

Cursing under her breath, Skye stabbed the ‘call’ button on her phone, only to be once again greeted by a message telling her the phone she was calling was currently unavailable.

“God damn it, Ward,” she snarled as she slid the phone back into her pocket and finally consented to lift her gaze to Coulson, who was staring at her. He had been staring at her for fifteen minutes straight, since the time for Ward’s arrival had been and gone.

“He’s not showing, Skye. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m more disappointed by; the fact I gave him a chance to begin with, or the fact you’re so clearly invested in him again.”

Rolling her eyes, she held up her hand to try to deflect the disdain so easily discernible on Coulson’s features.

“No, something happened. Ward wouldn’t have missed this meeting, he… he promised me.”

Coulson allowed a snort of laughter to escape his lips, and he stood from his desk chair and regarded her with equal parts sympathy and withering annoyance.

“When did you start believing a word that comes out of Grant Ward’s mouth?”

“Sir,” Simmons said, quietly but firmly as she raised her eyes from the table top they had been fixed on to Coulson’s face, “that’s not really helping anyone.”

Arching a brow, Coulson directed an almost disbelieving look at Simmons, who he would have believed to have been the last person to leap to Grant Ward’s defence.

“I would have thought that you of all people would have been thrilled, Jemma,” he retorted, somewhat testily. Jemma bristled and folded her arms over her chest, refusing to rise to the bait by snapping back at the man, who she was forced to remind herself was her boss.

“Giving up hope for another human being doesn’t exactly ‘thrill’ me, sir,” she countered, her tone polite and yet somehow also ice cold, “and I certainly don’t take pleasure in a friend’s disappointment.”

“I’m not disappointed!” Skye insisted, shaking her head as she pushed back from the meeting table and rose to her feet, “we just need to give him more time. He wouldn’t let me down again, I know it.”

Coulson released a sigh that indicated he was truly fed up waiting for the errant former Specialist, and that ‘more time’ was not on the proverbial menu for that evening.

“I have things to do, Skye, I…” Coulson began, suddenly halting as Skye’s cell phone began to ring and she looked at the number on the screen with obvious relief.

Simmons offered her friend a brief smile as Skye stabbed the ‘connect’ button and turned around, phone held to her ear.

“Ward?” she hissed, “where the hell are you? We gave you a chance, and you… you…”

Brow furrowed, Skye looked over at Jemma, who sat up straighter at the action.

“May?” Swallowing hard, Skye demanded in a rush, “Where’s Ward? Is he… is he… _What_?”

Her face contorted in shock, and Skye glanced rapidly from Coulson to Simmons and then back again.

“Okay, we’ll be right there.”

Skye dropped the cell on the table as though it had burned her, and wasted no time in rounding on Simmons, who was watching with interest and slight confusion.

“We have to go, now,” she demanded, seizing the scientist gently by the arm and encouraging her to her feet. “I need your help.”

“Skye, what’s…?” Simmons replied, shooting a glance at Coulson when the sound of someone singing, loud and offkey, shattered the quiet of the outer hallway.

“May found Ward,” said Skye, half a smile twitching at her lips, despite the severity of the situation. The tuneless strains of ‘Walking in A Winter Wonderland’ that reached her ears were doing very little to thwart her amusement, regardless of how inappropriate it might be in that moment.

“She said we should meet her in the med. bay but I guess Dean Martin had other ideas,” she replied, managing to swallow down a chuckle as she heard May bark something sharply to her companion, whose spirit didn’t seem to be in the least dampened.

“Little help out here!” yelled a familiar voice that bore a thick Scottish brogue.

“What the hell is going on here?” Coulon snapped, thoroughly irritated now by proceedings, and simply eager to carry on with his day, after hopefully banishing all thoughts of Grant Ward from his mind. The former Specialist was beginning to cause him a bigger headache in trying to be of assistance to S.H.I.E.L.D. than he had when he had betrayed the organisation.

“What on earth?” Simmons gaped, rushing to help May and Fitz as they struggled to drag Ward’s sizeable and apparently semi-conscious frame towards the med. bay door, which was located several feet down the corridor.

“Less talking, more helping!” Fitz yelled, his knees almost buckling with the strain of holding up one side of the 6’ 2 Specialist.

“What happened?” Skye demanded, looking askance at Ward as his eyes rolled back in his head and he grappled with thin air in between bouts of nonsensical laughter. He couldn’t have been any less the fearsome Specialist if he had tried.

“It’s anaesthetic gas,” May explained with a wince, gritting her teeth as finally Simmons and Skye each grasped one of Ward’s legs and they staggered towards a gurney with a collective grunt of exertion. Ward, for his part, began serenading them with another Christmas classic.

“Yeah, that’s great Bing, but we really need you to use your legs right now,” Skye demanded, eyes wide as Ward’s stare appeared to settle on her.

“ _Skye_ …” he sighed almost airily, beaming at her as he repeated her name over and over again as if the sound of it alone made him blissfully happy.

“Oh dear Lord…” Simmons ground out, rolling her eyes so hard that they were practically in danger of sliding right out of her head.

“Where did you find him?” Coulson inquired, pausing in the doorway of medical and leaning against the frame, where he stood to observe Ward. The Specialist’s eyes closed for a moment and an inane grin overtook his lips. He moved as though to get up off the bed and immediately four sets of hands were upon him, holding him down.

“Hey, hey, big guy,” Fitz coaxed, sounding as though he was addressing a very young child, “how about a little sleep, huh? Does that sound good?”

“I can’t sedate him,” Simmons replied, shaking her head firmly as she grasped Ward’s wrist and began to measure his pulse, “I have no idea what’s been pumped into his system and there’s a very real danger I could OD him.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” supplied Coulson, wincing as Ward started up with another festive tune, belted out at the top of his voice.

“He was at a clinic downtown,” May said, addressing Coulson’s earlier question as she moved away from the bed, satisfied that the three younger agents could handle Ward for the time being. If he started to resist then she’d step forward but for now he posed no real risk to any of them.

“Hydra cover?” Coulson guessed, his expression souring rapidly when May nodded her head.

“Black market organ harvesting, not typically from willing donors,” she stated, and Skye’s head whipped around to affix the two senior agents with a horrified look.

“Is he okay?” she demanded, her hands leaving Ward’s arm to hover over his torso, “I mean… everything’s still in there, right?”

“Depends on whether you think he had a heart and a brain to begin with, but yes…” May snarked, sighing as she watched the team try to subdue him.

“Hey, hey Grant?” Skye tried, gasping as Ward suddenly rolled onto his side and clutched her hand to his chest as if trying to hug it. However, the action only propelled her forward until they were nose to nose.

“I don’t think I should have another… another drink,” he slurred, his handsome features suddenly lit up as he found her chest directly within his line of sight.

“Okay, Ward, work with me here,” Skye pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle her hand free. “You just need to sleep this off and then… then we…”

Letting out an airy little groan first, he then began to chuckle like a naughty child. “Your… your… boobs… are awesome.”

Feeling her cheeks burn a violent shade of red, Skye managed to bite a snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I know, pal. Eyes up here…” she directed, placing her free hand on his cheek and directing his gaze to her face instead in order to try to snap him out of his stupor.

“Pretty eyes…” Ward slurred, his grin widening and somehow simultaneously managing to grow more absurd at the same time.

“Are you really sure you can’t knock him out?” Coulson checked, shooting a glare at Simmons, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe not with drugs,” May quipped, a smile lighting her features as she cocked a brow at the director, just waiting for the green light.

“Don’t you dare,” Skye growled, doing her level best to help Ward shrug out of his signature brown leather jacket, which was a harder venture than it first might have appeared to be. He almost overbalanced and tumbled off the bed twice, until they finally managed to wrestle his arms and considerably muscular bulk free.

“Do you… remember… when…” Ward began, chuckling merrily as he finished in a wobbly falsetto, “we used to say… sha la la la la laaaa…”

“Can we please do something before we end up subjected to the entire Van Morrison back catalogue?” demanded Fitz, raking a hand through his hair. He shot an accusatory glare at May as he scoffed, “You couldn’t have busted him out of there before they had him flying as high as a bloody kite?”

“He made it out with both kidneys, he should be thankful for that,” May retorted, arms folded across her chest. Relenting slightly, she added, “Although in fairness, I suppose we do now have twelve Hydra doctors and their medical team in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. He’s lucky I slipped that tracker inside his damn jacket a few days ago.”

Coulson appeared momentarily taken aback, and he cleared his throat as if uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were taking him.

“Alright, look… get him straightened out, let him sleep this off, and tell him we’ll reschedule our meeting when he’s… less musical.”

Shooting them one final incredulous glance, Coulson exited the medical bay, mumbling to himself as he went.

Ward, suddenly sobering as if struck by a frightening thought, lifted his hand to Skye’s cheek, his expression fearful.

“I won’t… won’t let them… I’ll keep… keep you safe… always,” he said solemnly, although his words were somewhat muddled there was conviction in his tone of voice.

Leading him to lay back against the pillows, Skye touched his forehead with her fingertips.

“I know,” she offered him a brief smile, placing her free hand over his and slowly leading his palm away from her cheek, back onto his own chest. Simmons hooked him up to a plethora of monitoring machines as Skye worked to settle him better in the bed, neither woman communicating as they moved past each other.

“Kinda sleepy,” he slurred, peering up at Skye through half closed lids. Still, a smile found its way across his lips as he added, “You’re being nice to me… why are you being nice to me?”

Biting her cheeks to keep from grinning, both at Ward’s words and also his uncharacteristic state of openness, Skye reached for his hand again. Simmons was watching from the corner of her eye, as was Fitz, and so Skye was almost hesitant to complete the gesture. However, she did, momentarily pushing aside concerns that either he or her friends would see it for something it wasn’t. She hadn’t forgiven him yet, she told herself. But maybe, she was just that little bit closer to it.

“Get some rest, Grant,” she encouraged, her thumb smoothing over the skin of the back of his hand. She noted a scar shaped like a crescent there, and she found herself wondering about it. Was it a souvenir of his Specialist days, or a memento gifted to him by his older brother or Garrett? Skye swallowed hard and pushed such toxic thoughts aside. She couldn’t change the past, but she could carve out a better future.

Perhaps if given the opportunity, Ward could too.

“Don’t… don’t go…?” Ward asked, wincing as he let his head fall back against the pillows and he felt his ribs begin to ache.

Taking it as a sign that he might be coming to his senses, and therefore not about to serenade her with easy listening classics, Skye nodded in agreement.

“Fine. But… you close your eyes and sleep. No more med. bay karaoke.”

“Huh?” he frowned sleepily, now in the latter stages of his drug induced euphoria, where his memory of singing to his former colleagues was fleeting.

“You don’t remember singing… just now? Like… Christmas songs and shit?” Skye checked, watching as he licked his lips and shook his head slowly.

“Oh, I am gonna have so much fun with this when he wakes up,” she glanced up at FitzSimmons, who were eying the pair closely.

It hadn’t escaped Skye’s notice how Jemma’s arm had snaked around Fitz’s waist, pulling him close to her body in an effort to offer him comfort, should Ward’s presence mean that he suddenly required it. Whilst Fitz had made amazing progress in his recovery from the incident that occurred that fateful day, he would bare both some mental and physical scars forever. Skye couldn’t expect him to just welcome back the former Specialist with open arms; whilst they had once been like brothers, Grant had shattered that relationship with his betrayal, perhaps irreparably. Skye thought that she was beginning to realise that her feelings for Ward were just that; hers alone. Whilst she might hope for a time when the team would find it within themselves to forgive him his transgressions, she couldn’t force the issue, and she could have no way of knowing when or indeed if that moment might come. It made her heart ache to consider it, but there was no escaping reality.

“I understand if you guys don’t want to be here,” Skye said quietly, tearing her gaze away from Ward’s face and licking her suddenly dry lips as she surveyed her friends. “I can watch him and then come get Coulson in a while when he’s… more himself.”

FitzSimmons appeared to mutually ponder this for a moment, first casting analytical gazes over Ward’s sleeping form, and then over Skye. Deciding that Ward posed no risk to their friend, the scientists nodded, gratitude spread across Jemma’s face at least.

“Alright then, but just shout if you need me!” Jemma informed her pointedly. Pausing to check Ward’s vitals on the monitor screens beside the bed, she offered, “Everything looks normal, I suppose he’ll be up and about once he’s had a chance to sleep it off.”

“Thanks,” Skye smiled at her friend before rising to reciprocate the hug that Fitz offered her. “See you later, guys.”

Slipping her hand free from Ward’s, she searched the room for a chair before she carefully and quietly relocated it beside the bed. Turning the light off above the med. bay gurney, she settled down into the seat, grabbing the spare blanket at Ward’s feet and wrapping it around herself like a shawl.

It had been a strange, certainly eventful, and most definitely tiring twelve days, and Skye was looking forward to getting some sleep now that Ward himself was finally at rest. She doubted his current state would last long and so she relaxed back in her chair, resolved to make the most of his silence and inactivity. Because Heaven help her, he would soon be up and about, and ready to rain chaos down on her world once again.

She could hardly wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Epilogue

**24th December 2015**

**11 months later…**

The lounge area of the Bus was lit only by strands of twinkle lights, which offered a warm, festive glow similar to the one painted on Skye’s cheeks. Inhaling slowly as she padded across the carpet, she breathed in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla candles, a contented smile blooming on her lips.

Taking a seat on the couch, she held out one of the wine glasses in her hand in offering and smiled when Ward took it from her.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she peered over at the Christmas tree, where their freshly wrapped gifts sat awaiting the team and the chaos of the morning.

“So much easier to wrap than last year’s gifts, huh?” she teased, wriggling closer until she could seat herself on his lap and drape her free arm around his neck. Taking a sip from her own glass, she watched as he smiled in reply, his expression thoughtful.

“Although, Coulson might not be as excited over the Cadillac print shirt we got him as he was about Hydra’s scientific department,” he reasoned, swallowing a mouthful of wine and sweeping his hand up and down Skye’s thigh.

“Yeah but he’s gonna lose his shit over that Captain America war bonds poster,” she replied, grinning as she thought about watching the team unwrap their gifts. She felt decidedly more in the festive mood this year, and she knew it was due in no small part to the relationship she and Ward were slowly navigating together.

He had not returned to S.H.I.E.L.D., and Skye had begun to realise that that development might perhaps never be on the cards. Coulson had come some way to forgiving him, and perhaps even understanding him, but trust was something easily broken and often near impossible to repair. It made Skye sad sometimes to consider that their family would never truly be the way it was before, and yet she knew how lucky she was that they had been able to forge something different, despite the initial discomfort and awkwardness. Therefore, Ward often served as a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., and sometimes even as a mercenary, much to his own personal chagrin; he had never really liked that term and everything it implied, but Skye was quick to remind him that beggars most definitely not could be choosers.

“So, what’s the plan for the evening?” Ward asked, settling Skye in his lap and tugging her back against his chest, where her body fit perfectly. “Movie night? Board games? Family dinner?”

He seemed oddly excited by each prospect, his eyes lighting up, not only because a hundred tiny, twinkling tree lights were reflected within them. Skye smiled, her hand squeezing his wrist.

“I think May and Coulson are having dinner together, and FitzSimmons…” she began, hesitant to continue, although she knew there was no need to once she registered the look of understanding that crossed Ward’s face.

“Don’t want to spend time around me unless they have to,” he finished on Skye’s behalf, nodding his head and then taking another sip of his wine. His smile was wry but self-deprecating as he added, “Can’t say I blame them. I suppose I wouldn’t really want to spend more time than strictly necessary on a plane with the guy who pushed me out of one.”

Rolling her eyes, Skye peered at him intently, one eyebrow arched.

“No, idiot. They’re… busy.”

She prodded Ward lightly in the centre of his chest. Leaning in until their lips almost touched, she repeated, “Like, _busy_?”

Widening her eyes significantly, she waited a few moments until the truth dawned on him. He first looked surprised and then ever so slightly revolted.

“I know, I don’t want to think about that either,” Skye said in agreement, her nose wrinkled in disdain. She leaned away to set her wine glass down on the table in front of them before resettling herself back against his chest.

“I honestly thought they were just avoiding me, but… that… that makes a lot of sense,” he admitted, thinking back on the times he’d assumed their skittish behaviour was down to their residual discomfort with him so frequently being around. Particularly over the last three months, as he and Skye had finally given into the feelings between them and taken that final step into a real relationship.

“Actually, they’ve got you something for Christmas. It’s right under the tree there,” she said knowingly, pleased to see the shocked but also delighted expression her revelation prompted.

He paused, growing visibly suspicious as he probed, “Wait, does it tick?”

Swatting playfully at Ward’s chest, Skye let out a giggle, which he seemed to take good naturedly enough if the grin spread across his lips was anything to go by.

“Not going to lie though, Robot,” she began, tapping his cheek with the tip of her index finger and staring at him, “if I see a fruit basket under that tree in the morning, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Ward shook his head, eyes wide, as though the idea had never even crossed his mind, although truthfully it had several times; once when he had considered playing a little harmless Christmas morning prank on his girlfriend, and again when he had realised just how many boxes of coco puffs she was capable of consuming in a week.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Ward promised her, feeling a wave of happiness wash over him as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Glad to hear it,” she replied, sighing airily as she let her head roll back against his shoulder. Reaching up she cupped his cheek in her hand, directing his head lower as she craned her neck to brush her lips against his. Reciprocating eagerly, Ward slid his hand up to the back of her head, delighting in her groan as his tongue met hers.

“This is turning out to be a pretty good Christmas,” Skye enthused as she drew away. She punctuated her sentence with another lingering kiss that ignited a flame of desire in the pit of her stomach. It was fanned even further by the feel of his hands mapping out the curves of her body.

“The best,” he agreed, smirking as she looked up at him with unchecked desire, and suddenly the trajectory of their evening was becoming clearer and clearer. He only hoped FitzSimmons hadn’t taken to Fitz’s bunk or things could become awkward.

“Yeah, well I guess any Christmas where you’re not about to have your organs harvested is a good one,” she teased, giggling when she felt his lips form a smile against her neck, where he was lavishing her skin with kisses.

“Is there any chance you’ll ever let me forget about that?” he queried, tipping his head as he peered down at her, secretly charmed by the impish look present on her face.

“Oh, not this side of the millennium,” she vowed, before gripping the back of his shirt and using it to hoist him back down to her lips.

“It was definitely worth it,” he breathed when they drew apart again, their cheeks flushed as a result of both their desire and the wine.

“Even worth the video footage May has of you singing Christmas songs?” she teased back. Ward’s frown almost made her chuckle but she managed to rein in her mirth as she awaited his answer.

“I still can’t believe she took that,” he muttered, shaking his head in near despair as he thought of the footage in question, which still existed somewhere on the encrypted personal hard drive that belonged to May. From time to time, whenever their egos clashed or they were at loggerheads over how best to handle a mission, she would bring it up, along with a fresh wave of threats for its widespread publication.

“I’d have been pissed if she didn’t,” Skye admitted, tossing back her head and laughing at the glower Ward directed at her.

Finally relenting and seeing the humorous side of the situation, Ward laughed in exasperation. “Long as she’s not trying to crush my larynx, I guess.”

Shooting him a glare of disapproval, Skye pressed her fingertip to his lips. “No more talk of the past, not right now. There’s plenty of time for that in therapy, but it’s Christmas, Grant. Let’s just enjoy it. But if you wanted to spill your guts, you could tell me what you got me?!”

Ward arched a brow, pretending to ponder her request for a little while. His arms folded around her hips as she moved to sit astride his knee. Leaning close, she looped her arms around his neck with a smile that was more than a little bit mischievous as she rocked slowly against his crotch.

“No. Not happening,” he decided, leaning in until his breath ghosted her earlobe and he felt her shiver in his arms, “ _it’s a surprise_.”

Skye rewarded him with a withering look that he found comical rather than threatening.

“This better not involve late night treasure hunts, trussed up Hydra agents, or freeing pole dancers from a sleazy club.” Suddenly peering at him through heavy lids, Skye batted her lashes and stroked the tip of her finger down his lips and chin, towards the hem of his sweater. “I’m pretty sure I could make you talk…”

Ward ducked his head as if chasing a kiss, and he waited until their lips were almost touching before he breathed, “I’ve been trained to withstand the very worse torture.”

Skye laughed out loud, and the sound made Grant’s chest swell with happiness. The feel of her in his arms was still something he was adjusting to, and he remained in a state of awe at the fact that Skye had even allowed him into her life again; let alone her affections or her bed.

Looking him up and down in a predatory manner, Skye cocked her head.  She simultaneously licked her lips and pressed her palm to his crotch in a pointed gesture. He gasped at her touch, his breath catching as she slid forward in his lap to grind against him.

“I’m _confident_ I could get it out of you,” she said with a toss of her glossy hair.

Regaining his senses, Ward swallowed and composed himself. Chancing a glance at the clock first, he returned his gaze to his girlfriend’s face and then slid his hands down to give her rear a playful squeeze.

“Eight hours. Even you can wait eight hours.”

Skye let out a groan and then stuck her tongue out at him for good measure.

“Sure I _can_ , but I don’t _want_ to,” she replied pointedly, sticking out her tongue to illustrate her annoyance.  

“Patience is a virtue, or so I hear,” Ward said, enjoying the look of outrage Skye directed at him. He loved this playful side of their relationship perhaps the most. They were arguably everything to each other – lovers, confidantes, best friends, even team mates – which was so much more than Ward could ever have hoped for on a sunny morning when he had dragged a homeless young hacker from her decrepit van.

“You’re no fun,” she accused half-heartedly, grinning in anticipation as he bent his head and moved as if to kiss her. The hungry gaze in his eyes made her stomach somersault and she found herself moaning almost absurdly against his lips, her fingers clasping at his shoulders as their kisses grew more demanding.

“Okay so you’re kind of fun, I guess,” she panted, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead and drew her against his chest. She sighed in contentment, taking in the festive ambience surrounding them as well as the familiar scent of his skin, and the sensation of being held in his arms. He grasped onto her tightly and her head fell against his shoulder as they embraced.

“Never had you down as a snuggler, Grant.”

Hearing and simultaneously feeling the exasperated sigh leave his body, Skye grinned. Ward only rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” he chastised her in little more than a whisper.

“No, I mean, it’s nice. I like it, I just…” she rambled on, giggling when his chest moved beneath her and his laughter rumbled against her cheek. “I’m serious!”

Drawing back, she rolled her eyes in an effort to rebuke him, but instead found herself drawn into a kiss that would no doubt earn each of them a place on the ‘naughty list’. Provided Santa was privy to their clinch and the current location of wandering hands.

Affixing Grant with a thoughtful look, Skye rested her palm against his cheek. Her thumb brushed over his jaw and she busied herself with taking in each line and curve of his face.

“This is what it feels like, Grant…” she said softly, indulgently, as he looked back at her with confusion present on his face. Tracing her thumb over his bottom lip, she added, “ _To be loved.”_

Ward’s expression bordered on awe struck, as if the realisation had perhaps only just hit him; to not only hear Skye say it, but to see her feelings so clearly reflected in her eyes was enough to make his heart hammer in his chest. Unable to find his voice, he just nodded, hoping the small act was enough. He closed his eyes and she rested her forehead against his. For a few moments they were just content to be in each other’s presence.

Skye kissed his jaw, gradually making her way to his lips and surging forward in his lap as he met her passion with his own.

“Come on, let’s go to bed. I’ve got a sprig of mistletoe with your name on it,” she winked at him and took his hand, pulling him to his feet with relative ease.

They strolled down the hallway towards her bunk, each of them pausing to offer the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree an appreciative glance.

Letting Skye lead the way, Ward dropped back behind her, fingers still entangled with hers; and the very next day, Skye would maintain that she had heard him softly humming a Christmas song to himself. Although Ward would deny it, the one thing he would attest to was the fact that even though magic can be lost for a time, it’s never impossible to find it again.


End file.
